


V is for Vicodin

by mileventhdoctor



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, Stranger Things (TV 2016), The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt, The Turning (2020)
Genre: Bi, Bisexual, Gay, IT - Freeform, IT2017, ITstephenking, LGBTQ, M/M, Romance, Strangerthings, aneurinbarnard, anselelgort, boreo, donnatartt, finnwolfhard, finnwolfhardofficial, oakesfegley, potter, strangerthingstv, thegoldfinch, theturning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 68,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mileventhdoctor/pseuds/mileventhdoctor
Summary: The chronicles of Theo and Boris: a neverending story! Starts off with some unexpected romantic moments they shared as druggie teens, then cuts to the aftermath of salvaging The Goldfinch and what that looks for their relationship as they journey through adulthood. Rated M for drug use, underage drinking, and sex. I'm not going to make it too too smutty or graphic. (Based on movie) HOMOPHOBIA IS NOT PERMITTED AND WILL NOT BE TOLERATED IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM!!! This is a safe space ^_^  <3
Relationships: Theodore Decker & Boris Pavlikovsky, Theodore Decker/Boris Pavlikovsky
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	1. Prologue

From his first daring comment in Civics class, I knew we would get along just fine. I was even more intrigued after that bus ride when he opened his umbrella to me in hatred of the sun. So casual and open even from the beginning, he was the only one who made me feel comfortable with living in that desert-dry shithole! He was my best friend- it was as simple and complicated as that. Back then, every time my pet name 'Potter' would escape his lips, my eyebrows would crinkle with offense and then relax once I realized it was meant to be endearing. I grew more used to it and ever since that epiphany of mine, the name has sent chills down my spine. I hear him say it and feel my knees start to buckle before I melt entirely.

They say that love makes you crazy and I agree with that statement very much. I'm crazy about Boris, but in my own special way. Not the typical head over heels way, but more in the "you drive me crazy, but I can't get enough of you" kind of way. At first, I thought it was just a fling, what we had, and in some ways, it was, but we also suppressed it and bottled up any feelings we may have had for each other then. We could hardly remember what happened the night before, let alone between us. It was all a little bit of a blur, but a euphoric one at that.

We could not have been more different, but I guess it as they say: Opposites attract. And while his life was always troubled from the start, mine started off well and then started to deteriorate like the destruction of a bomb, and at the same time, by the destruction of a bomb. We had both dealt with our own personal pain and I guess that was one way that we were one and the same. In that sense, we had a lot more in common than we thought. And that was why we could coexist together so easily and naturally.

Boris showed me another side of myself, a wild side. He always pushed me out of my comfort zone and was so spontaneous! You never knew what he was up to or what he was going to do next...Unless it was drugs, something which he always seemed to fall back on. They were his go-to, and mine for that matter. I'll admit, I'm a bit of an addict myself, but he was the real drug I couldn't quit. Sure, Boris was always getting into all kinds of trouble, but he meant well, I knew he did, deep down.

You see, he had the charisma of a fox, a charm you couldn't penetrate. He was a peculiar little rascal, that was for sure...Tricky like Rumplestiltskin, he made lots of deals and promises he couldn't keep, but he never let me down. He would stop at nothing until he made things right and okay again, both in general and between us. And with Pippa on the brain, I was blindsided, but when I felt most alone, he was there and I realized all of the things about him that I took for granted. Those moments I would never forget, the ones I looked back on with a smile no matter how many times he screwed me over, and despite it being a time when I thought I had hit rock bottom. We were always getting into all kinds of crazy antics, the two of us. If we were anything, it was a bad accident waiting to happen, one that only a mad scientist could cultivate, but that goes for most of us crackheads.

It was then that I realized he was always there, in the back of my mind, waiting to come out again. And maybe it was time, to come out...To come to face with who I really was. With Pippa, it felt like fate. I adored her and we had a special connection that I couldn't shake, but with Boris, it felt different. It felt right for something many saw as wrong. And I had always hated him for not coming to New York with me, but I couldn't stay mad at him. Instead, I lingered over that kiss, revisiting it whenever I was in that headspace. Who knows! Things might not have worked out between us in the end if it wasn't for that period of separation. And now, here I am, recounting the tales of me and my lover, an old flame that never died…


	2. V is for V-Card

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to note for all of you youngins out there that I am not purposely trying to make two underaged characters engage in sexual activity, but I'm also not going to shy away from it either because it's literally in the book and hinted at in the movie. So I'm merely basing my writing off of their relationship in parts of the book and the whole movie, while developing it myself. Not all of the chapters will be this risqué; some will be innocent, humorous, emotional, or even all three, but some might be a little naughtier than others. Anyway, just beware of that, especially if you are one of my younger readers. I'm not planning for it to get too graphic or smutty or anything. I will say that the sex is definitely more direct than my recent Jopper chapters have been with it, but I'll try and handle it tastefully and stay true to the characters. And also, please keep in mind that I've never written about gay sex before, so I tried my best. I hope I didn't miss the mark here for any of you. It's just that you guys are really important to me and I'd love to hear any feedback you may have. (P.S. For Boris' accent, I will probably put some nonsense words in there every once in a while to spell out phonetically how it would actually sound coming from him.)

When I was 13 years old, I met Boris Pavlikovsky. It was an unlikely friendship that I certainly didn't foresee. In fact, I wasn't expecting to make any friends at all. I wasn't antisocial, but I wasn't outgoing either. Instead, I was stuck being the new kid that everybody felt sorry for once they heard why I ended up in Las Vegas, but Boris was already an outcast- the foreign kid. He had moved around even more than me, so he had been through it all more than once and knew exactly what it felt like to be in my shoes. My dad and Xandra could sense that we were getting closer and were always asking me about what we had in common and what we did together. I never had a good answer, for obvious reasons. Half of the stuff we did together was purely illegal- drugs, stealing, etc.

And often, when my dad and Xandra decided to spend the weekend away together and Boris' dad was tied up at work once again, we would hang out. I don't know what it was about this particular day, but for whatever reason, we were bored out of our MINDS! We tried everything to keep ourselves occupied- we played cards, listened to music, hell, we even counted the ceiling tiles! At first, we were trying to branch out a bit and not just go straight for the drugs, but alas, we couldn't resist the urge and resorted back to our old routine. We hit every drug you could think of, all of the hard stuff, including Vicodin, our drug of choice.

"Do you feel anything?" I asked.

"A littull. You?" he replied softly.

"Nope, nothing. I can't even feel my arms. They feel numb."

"*laughs knowingly* I think eesworking, Potter."

"Oh...Huhahah," I giggled.

"So...Wot now?" asked Boris.

I shrugged. Sure, we got high, but that still wasn't enough. So I started to rummage through Boris' nearly empty fridge, fixing us some snacks and improvising as I went. To be quite honest, I didn't know what a lot of it was, as most of it was in Russian. And then it occurred to me- maybe he could teach me some of the language.

"Boris, I got it!"

"Got wot?"

"Teach me some Russian, that'll give us something to do."

"You wunt to learn Russian?"

"Yeah, why not! It'd be cool to talk to each other during school and have only us understand it."

"You know, thayse not bayd idea, Potter, but lez go to my room...I kind ove wunt to lie down."

"Agreed," I said.

*walks over, opens door, plops on bed*

"So! Wot do you wunt to learn first?" he asked.

"Not sure. Surprise me!" I said.

"Your weesh is my command, Potter."

*ponders*

Then with a devilish look, one that I knew all too well, his face lit up and it came to him- my first Russian phrase.

"Oleright, Potter. Repeat after me: Shluka-"

"Shluka..."

"Nuh Voke-"

"Nuh Voke..."

"Zahlya."

"Zahlya."

"Good. Now ole together."

"Shluka nuh vokezahlya…?" I said with complete hesitance.

"See, Potter, you're a natural!"

"*chuckles* What's it mean anyway?"

"Eh, eesnot important…"

"Oh, c'mon! You're not going to tell me what I said?!"

"Oleright fine...You said 'train station whore'."

"Pardon?"

"Train station whore, thayse wot you said."

"Boris, *chuckles* what the hell?!"

"You said to surprise you, so I surprise you!"

"I knew you were up to something. C'mon, give me something real this time!"

"Train station whores are very real, Potter..." he joked.

"Boris…" I said impatiently.

"Okay, okay. Um...Hooy morzhovy. Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Who-ee-"

"Who-ee-"

"Morris-ovia."

"Morris-ovia. Hooy morzhovy," I said confidently.

*Boris laughs*

"*lets out a chuckle* What? What's so funny?"

"Walrus dick," he said.

"That's what you made me say?! Walrus dick?"

*laughs raspily while nodding*

"I'm sorry, I coodent hailp eet!"

"*sighs* Can't you just teach me hello or something?"

"Okay, I get eet. Ees serious time. *exhales while waving hand over face* I'll teach you a cahple ove greetings and basics."

"Finally!" I said.

And he did just that. He taught me what he called the most "essential" phrases: Hello, goodbye, I'm sorry, thank you, and…

"Yeah lyooblue-tibia. And that means…?"

"No, you hayve to gayce, remember?"

"Fine, I'll guess, but you have to at least give me some sort of hint!"

Holding up his hands in a heart, I said:

"Love?"

"Close!" he said.

"Oh, um, is it 'I love you'?"

"Bingoh! Love you too, Potter," he said with a wink.

"Aww, bring it in," I said, opening my arms out to him.

From that point forward, I didn't know a lick of Russian, as I had lost it all by the following morning, except for I love you...well, that and walrus dick. Those two stuck with me for an eternity, but I still desired to take it in college when I missed him.

Normally, I found his beery breath and unique odor somewhat off-putting and quite frankly, nauseating at times, but that night, I felt no opposition towards him whatsoever. His affection towards me was so inviting, how could I say no! But it definitely helped that he was wearing cologne then...definitely!

And after that little moment of many, we both were both pretty beat, so we decided to crash. It was only a matter of time before we'd pass out from all of the drinks and drugs we had that night, so it only made sense to just go ahead and go to sleep anyway, but before we did, something unexpected happened…

"Goodnight, Potter," Boris said, kissing me on the lips.

"What the hell was that?" I said, wiping them.

"I don't know. Where I'm from, keesez aren't just romantic. They're greetings too."

"Oh, right. I forgot, sorry," I said.

"*sighs* Oh, Potter," he said, stroking my cheek with his thumb. "You steel hayve so much to learn…"

I smiled nervously, not knowing quite what to do next.

"When I deed that though, deed you think I woz-"

"What, coming onto me? Gay? Nah! I'm pretty sure your nauseating crush on Xandra disproved that already. I was just confused, that's all."

"I cood like boys too, you nayver know."

"Yeah, right!" I said.

"*laughs* Suit yourself..." he said, turning off the light.

The whole rest of the night, I was stuck on that kiss. He not only dismissed it as innocent nonsense, but also hinted at maybe liking boys, so I didn't quite know what to make of it. All I knew was that it felt like the start of something. It made me feel all warm inside, just like my first kiss with Pippa. Was it supposed to? I didn't know, but I would soon find out.

And because of this, I was restless. I tossed and turned constantly, so much so, that Boris even turned around and hugged his arms around my waist, whispering in my ear:

"Hold steel, Potter."

And that was that. By then, I was far gone in dreamland. The next day, however, we went through the same question of what to do, but once it got later, we decided to play a game of Truth or Dare. I found it funny how I almost always chose truth and he almost always chose dare. We were very different in that way, but it wasn't it as much that I was too chicken to do a dare, it was the fact that I was too scared to find out what he had in store for me. I didn't trust him. I don't think I ever really did until we had to work together to save the painting. I didn't trust him fully until I knew that I had to, but I still let him do his thing and followed his lead anyway.

"C'mon, Potter! You've already picked truth for last four rounds."

"So have you with dare!"

"Thayse becoz dares are acksholey fun!"

"Well, fuck you!" I said, flipping him off.

"*Boris smiles* Oleright, if you reelee wunt me to...Aysk me anything! I'm open book."

"Okay, I know you're going to make me do something absurd after this, so this isn't going to exactly match up to that, but can I ask you something serious?"

"Shore! Heet me," he said.

"Alright, um...How long has your dad been, you know, treating you...the way that he does?"

"You reelee wunt to know, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," I said.

"Well, my dade's oleways been hardass, but I deedn't oleways leeve in abusive household. My dade, he's just oleways pushed me to do my baste in school, at home...It nayver seems to end and thayse why I rebel, to take the edge off a littull becoz I gayce I nayver feel good enough and I know I'll nayver leeve ope to his standards. Plose, ees kind ove like an F U to heem."

I put my hand on his shoulder.

"Boris, you are good enough."

*shrugs*

"You are! I mean it!"

"Potter, I'm piece ove traysh. I've been too coat ope in slacking off ole thees time that I don't even know who I am anymore...I'm nothing, I'm just-"

"Stop that! Stop that right now, I don't want to hear it! You are Boris Fucking Pavlikovsky! You're the most delightful, charming guy I know! You might not be set up for success or have it all figured out yet, but you're the only one I know who's truly living…"

"Thank you, Potter," he said shyly, not expecting that from me. "Reelee, that means a lot."

"Ah, it's nothing!" I said, throwing my hand down.

"But when eet cahms to heem...beating me, you hayve to remember that ees apart ove our culture and maynee for that matter! Ees just how parents discipline their keeds and take their anger out. Ees nahrmull."

"Maybe that's true, but there is a fine line between a spanking and straight-up abuse…" I said firmly.

"Yeah, well, you know, my dade wozn't oleways abusive. There were moments when we were even close, but that woz before…"

"Before what?" I asked.

"Before my mom died. That broke heem...and me for a whyull."

"You miss her, don't you?" I asked.

"I do, a lot...She made my dade haypee, reelee haypee...She oleways used to settle disputes between two ove ose. She woz reelee good cook and she woz so calm and peaceful too...I mees her hugs."

"I do too, with my mom, I mean."

"You do?"

"Yeah. She was kind of like that too and still is...in my dreams. I desperately miss her hugs."

"Yeah," he said, patting my back and cupping my shoulder. "Well, anyways, ever since then essenchullee."

"I'm sorry, Boris. You don't deserve that."

"Well, nothing either ove ose can do about et anyway, might as well just leeve with eet until I can afford to move out."

"Or…"

"Or wot? Wot other option do I hayve?"

"You could call social services, tell them everything. They'll handle it."

"And end ope in orphanage like you olemost deed? No thanks...And besides, even if I deed, they'd arrest heem and I don't wunt that...They would investigate just enough to find out ole ove the shit he's done, like when killed the man bake in New Guinea and other illegal things he's done through the company, not to mention any involvement I may hayve hayd in hailping heem cover eet ope. So you see, Potter, I'm stuck here. They'd throw both ove our asses in jail..."

At first, I didn't say anything. I just mumbled 'Mm' and sat there, by his side, being there with him and for him. I thought I even saw him shed a tear or at least tear up a bit, but maybe I just imagined it...Regardless, I grabbed his hand and held it in mine, shaking it as I said, "It's going to be okay, Boris. Everything's going to be okay. And I'll try to get you out of the house as much as I can or be around when he's there at least, so he can't hurt you."

"Thank you, Potter. Thayse very sweet ove you."

"Of course! Yeah lyooblue-tibia, man."

"Yeah toejay lyooblue-tibia," he replied with a smile.

I smiled back and let go of his hand after giving it one last squeeze.

"But enough about that!" he said, throwing his hand down. "I beelieve eet is your tarne, Potter."

"Oh, brother! Here we go…" I said, awaiting whatever crazy dare he had in store for me.

"You hayve to tawk in my accent for next 4 rounds."

"Are you kidding me?! Oh my god, alright, but I'm going to butcher this royally…"

"*Boris laughs, looks down at watch* And starting...Now!" he cued.

"Oleright. Your tarne, truth," I said, imitating him.

*Boris smiles*

But then 4 rounds later, he threw me a curveball.

"Kees me," he said.

"Say what now?" I said, coming out of my fake accent.

"You heard me! Kees me, Potter."

"Uh...Wouldn't that be kind of weird? I mean, we're best friends, and also, I like girls."

"I like girls too, but I don't care if you don't. A keese is a keese, right?"

"Yeah, I guess...but-"

"Eggzackly, so wot are you so worried about? That peepull at school are going to hear about et?"

"Well, now I am! And besides, why are you so set on this dare anyway?"

"I don't know. I'm bored! I thought eet would make things interesting, something we cood look bake on and laugh about in the years to cahm. C'mon, we litorillee keesed last night! You know wot ees like now."

"I know, but I guess now it just feels more real…"

"*laughs through nose* Relax, Potter. Ees just game!"

"You're right...You're right! It's just a game."

He reached his arms out to put on my shoulders and lean in, but then paused for a moment, squeezing them and saying:

"Whoa, you're so tense...C'mere, tarne around."

"O-Okay."

And he massaged my shoulders. It was nice. He was nice...

"Now, thayse bayter, isn't et?"

"Much," I said.

"Good. Now, kees me, Potter. I can't wait ole day!"

And so I did. My thumb was against his ear, my hands resting on the side of his neck. It felt different than kissing a girl, though I had only kissed one- Pippa. It was still just as soft and inviting at first, but I was very conscious of the fact that a dude's face was the one I held between my palms. His cheekbones were so sharp, they could cut glass and his lips were almost pouty in the way that they drooped along the edges. He had some almost feminine features about him like that, but coming from him, it didn't feel that way at all. It was firm. It was almost as if we were both struggling for dominance, like we didn't know what our roles were within it or who wore the pants because we both did. I was the shyer one, no doubt, but I was also the one who initiated it, despite him being the one who encouraged it.

"See, that wozn't so bayd now, woz et?"

"No, not bad at all..."

An uncomfortable silence rose over us in that moment and we cleared our throats to fill it, awkwardly moving onto the next activity as bros do. And so began our hour-long video game binge. Boris only had a select few video games. Some were modern, popular ones, some were foreign, and some were retro, but it was fun while it lasted, until we became numb to the excitement.

"Wanna watch some tv?" I asked.

"Shore! Here's the remote. You can surf through channel."

"Alright."

And once a raunchy movie came across the screen, Boris' face lit up with lustful curiosity, but I skipped past it. However, that didn't stop him from saying:

"Wait, go bake!"

I sighed. I had no interest in watching this demeaning garbage. It had no substance! It was like it was lazily trying to be a story but you were too distracted by the caged bouncing boobs and men with washboard abs that you couldn't take it seriously. It certainly wasn't convincing at all, but on the other hand, I couldn't look away. I couldn't take my eyes off of it, it's like they were glued to the screen.

"Hey, you know wot'd be even bayter than thees?"

"No, what?"

"Porn," he said, nodding with a smile. "Wunna wotch it?"

"Eww, no!" I said.

"Why not?!"

*no answer*

"You've nayver seen et before, hayve you?"

"No…" I revealed.

"Not even to jerk off?"

"Nope, never."

"Oh, boy! Potter, you're in for treat tonight."

"I don't know...I mean, isn't it illegal?"

"Some ove et. So wot?! Thayse nayver stopped ose before!"

"No, I guess not...but still, it's something to keep in mind."

"Hey, don't knock eet till you try eet," he said with a wink.

*groans hesitantly*

"C'mon, guys do thees ole the time!" said Boris. "Ees nahrmull."

"That may be, but that doesn't make it right…I mean, a lot of those women are European trafficking victims, I hope you realize that."

"Who said we were going to wotch just women? And trust me, Potter, I've leeved in most ove those cuntarees, I know wot eet's like…"

"Yet you still watch it?"

"Yeah. I gayce the way I see et is there's no way ove knowing if they are one or aren't one. Plose, eet can make you feel satisfied when you hayve no sex hayppening in your life, like how peepull wotch violence becoz they're faysinated by et, but in nahrmull cayses, don't engage in et. Eet serves as an exhoast valve for our urges and impoleses olemost."

"Fair enough, I've just never thought about it like that before…"

"But ees okay, *shuts laptop lid* We don't hayve to wotch it."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to, just this once…" I said, opening the laptop lid much to his delight.

"*smile widens* I knew you'd cahm 'round..." he said. "*types, mouse clicks* Okay, pick your poison, or playjur rather."

"Oh, Boris, half of these are incestuous...Gross!"

"Beelieve me, Potter, noan ove these peepull are acksholey related. Ees ole just for show, but just pick something else anyway."

"Okay, um...how 'bout that one?"

"*chuckles* Good taste," he said.

It was by far the weirdest thing we had ever done together, or at least I thought, but I oddly found it, as he said, fascinating...It was just straight up fucking and maybe it was unrealistic, but little did Boris know that I had never done it myself.

*moans play in the background*

"Well?" asked Boris. "Wot do you think? Pretty hot, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Check out the tits on her!" he said pointing.

"Oh, I see them," I reassured.

Then, laughing to myself, I said:

"You're such a pig…"

"Well wot am I supposed to say? Nice lighting?"

"*laughs* I guess you've got a point there. They are kind of asking for it…"

"Eggzackly!"

*chuckles*

"So! Potter, tail me: Wot woz your first time like?"

You see, with my most male friendships, talking about sex is natural, but it's more so just lockeroom talk than it is an intimate conversation. With Boris, however, it felt more like when girls have boy-talk at a sleepover. When it came to him, there were no boundaries. There was no yellow caution tape when it came to our relationship. The way he saw it, questions like these were merely just hurdles for him to jump over. I debated about whether to lie or not but ultimately decided that it wasn't worth lying about.

"I wouldn't know...There was no first time…" I said.

"Holy shit, Potter, *closes laptop* you mean you're steel a-"

"Virgin? Yep, pretty much!"

"So you've nayver hayd sex before, not even with that girl Pippa?"

"No! What part about being a virgin do you not understand?"

"I'm-I'm just processing here...So why deedn't you? Hayve sex with her, I mean."

"I don't know. We're still pretty young. Guess it just didn't feel right to or maybe I wasn't ready. We weren't even in a relationship, we just kissed...once."

"That makes sense I gayce...You don't seem like the type to sleep around."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

"You should be flattered, Potter! Ees supposed to be compliment to your character, not insult...Me, I don't reelee give a fuck, but you hayve principles. I like that."

"You do?"

"Yeah, eet's cute."

"Thanks."

"Ove course...You know, there's nothing wrong with being a virgin, Potter…"

"Well, gee, that means so much coming from you! You've slept with tons of girls!"

"Not tons, just when I cood…"

"What's your secret?" I asked.

"Secret?" he repeated, laughing. "Fuck, I don't know. Eet just happened!"

"Have you ever slept with a boy before?"

"Some," he said. "Not as maynee...Why do you ask?"

"I don't know, I was just wondering."

"You know, Potter, I'm haypee to be your first, for practice, if you just wunted to get eet out ove way. But eet's your cole," he said.

"Oh, I don't kn- Wait, really?" I responded.

*Boris nodded with a smile*

"You're not going to tell anybody if I say yes, are you?"

"No, I woodent do that," he said.

I thought about it long and hard, then said:

"*sighs* Okay. What the hell! Let's do it."

"Thayse the speereet, Potter!" he said. "But follow me, I hayve an idea…"

"Oh no...What kind of kinky shit are we getting? Handcuffs?"

"Whoa, slow down, virgin!" he said with a chuckle.

"No need to rub it in!"

"*wheezes* I'm sorry, I coodent resist!"

With the way things were going living in this shithole, I guess I didn't imagine I'd have sex until college really and I couldn't help wondering...Why me? I guess he got bored getting with girl after girl and that's why he chose me. I don't know, I could never figure that out. He got to be the sexy foreign kid and I was just...ordinary. I felt silly even worrying over it, but what can I say- My curiosity got the best of me. I was no stranger to Boris boasting about all of the girls he had slept with and dated every time he moved somewhere new, I just never expected to be one of them...one of his lovers, I mean, not a girl.

He led me to the kitchen, where he pulled two bottles of vodka out of the fridge and held them up, saying:

"Drink ope, bitch!"

"*laughs* Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Just trying to get you to chill out! Your first time should be fun, not worrisome."

"Oh...Thanks."

"Shore thing, Potter."

Seeing that I was guzzling half the bottle in one sip, he turned to me and said:

"*laughs* Nervous?"

"Oh yeah!" I said.

He laughed again, resting his hand on top of mine for a moment and saying 'Don't be…'

"Don't feel intimidated, Potter. I'm not going to judge you. My expectations aren't high."

"I know...but can we at least make out a bit first? Just so we can get used to each other?" I asked.

"Shore, do you wunt me to hold your hand too, Hermione?"

"Really? You've demoted me to Hermione now! Oh, that's just unfair…"

"*chuckles* I kid, I kid. C'mere, hot stuff!" he said, pulling me in for a kiss.

I had never made out with anyone before. All of this was new to me, every part of it, but it was definitely something I could get used to. At first, we just stared at each other and I slowly felt myself drowning in his deep brown, dreamy eyes. Then, he lifted me up and set me on the counter. It was a sudden grab of faces, a locking of lips, one that made the empty beer bottles clink around us.

His hands spiraled around my neck and to my cheeks, my ear smushed by his finger, which was pressing it from behind.

Alternating lips and angles, his closed around mine. And when he leaned in deeper, I pushed back, our mouths opening and tongues tangling. It was a passion that left us both trying to catch our breath. I exhaled loudly, my hands sliding into his curly, black hair, my fingers caught up in his curly spirals. It seemed like so much time had passed by already and just as I was about to let go, his long, bony arm wrapped around my back and grabbed my shoulder in a balled fist, savoring the moment. His mouth let go of mine briefly, then pounced toward my face, rocking it back with a kiss that made my head hit the cabinet. His teeth gently tugged at my bottom lip like a taffy pull. And going in for a kiss once more, I grabbed his shirt and twisted it in my hand like a fork full of pasta, our lips letting go with the faintest squeak.

"You feel warmed ope now?" he stopped to ask.

"Yeah, I think so," I said.

"Okay. *pauses* You'll probably wunna take your glasses off, Potter."

"Oh, huhuhah, right!"

"Here, allow me," he said, sliding them off the tips of my ears and setting them on the nightstand beside us. "Woodent wunt to crush your precious spectacles or anything…"

"Are things really going to get that rough?" I asked.

"Thayse ope to you…" he said.

I suddenly got a little shy. I couldn't explain why that was, but I did...even though I wanted this.

"C'mere, Potter...I don't bite, I promise!"

"Well, judging by that kiss, I beg to differ," I replied.

"You liked that, deedn't you?"

I nodded and we stumbled into the bedroom, drunk as skunks, the two of us. We pawed at each other sillily, having little to no coordination. I had never felt so self-aware before. I felt my shirt start to ride up and down, crinkling against my back before he took it off. And whenever his curious little fingers would go for my pants or even other places, I would just tense up and freak out internally. It wasn't necessarily a bad freak-out, but it was a freak-out nonetheless. It was kind of exciting. I hadn't been touched like this by really anyone, but definitely not another boy...until now.

Taking off his shirt, I scanned him from shoulders to stomach. Then we undid belts only to find that he was wearing boxers and I was wearing whitey-tighties of all things...We stopped for a moment and stared at each other lustfully. Everything was happening so fast and the whole time, half of me was wanting this, for the experience, the intimacy, to see what it was like, and to get it over with really, not to mention the small part of me that actually wanted him, but another part of me was very hesitant...and nervous. I knew so little. I was afraid I would be so bad the first time or embarrass myself somehow, but those were just first-time nerves. I didn't mind it the next few times, I didn't mind it at all…

"So...Do you have like a position in mind or how should we do this?" I asked.

"Yeah, hold on a sec," he said, picking up his laptop to find a video that would suffice.

"I woz thinking we cood do thees…*skips through video* and then that. Wot do you think?"

Instead of answering, I just kissed him and waited for him to take the lead. Then he kissed my chest and stomach, got down on his knees, and well, you can fill in the rest...Switching levels like an elevator shaft, I did to him as he had done to me. And to finish it off, we returned to the bed, where he built a fort out of sheets and thrust me underneath. Then I did the same to him once again as he murmured my name breathlessly, 'Potter...Potter...' It was terrific.

I slept in the nude. I didn't mind it actually. I somehow slept the best I had ever slept that night, well, until the rude awakening of my night terror, that is...Boris didn't know what was going on at first but then remembered how I had told him of my nightmares before and what they were like. He just held me close to his chest and shushed me sweetly until I drifted back to sleep. It amazed me how well I fit into his embrace, in fact, it was so well that I could rest my chin on his shoulder as his entire wingspan swallowed my body in a hug.

Getting ready for school the next morning, we both walked in the kitchen, tripping a lot along the way. Our balance was pretty terrible, but that only made it funnier. We were still hungover, completely...And during breakfast, we inhaled some Aspirin tablets like they were candy, splashing the water at each other that we'd use to wash it down. Sometimes, when we went back to his bedroom before leaving, we would switch clothes just for kicks, or because we were still too drunk to notice. That was when I discovered the giant purplish red hickey he had left on my neck the night before.

But then everything would get all weird...We'd stop talking for a while and not even make eye contact when we did. We didn't know what all of this meant and it wasn't something neither of us wanted to further explore in the public eye. Behind closed curtains was perfectly good enough. We just didn't question it and let it happen on no other terms but our own. We never discussed it, merely only living in the moment.

I wouldn't change my time with Boris for anything. We were two powerful forces of nature, we were fearless! We didn't take life for granted, not for one second. Instead, we lived every moment to the fullest and tried everything there was to try. It was refreshing. No wonder I had missed him so much...


	3. Theology

In Civics the next day, I could feel my eyes starting to wander at none other than him. I told myself to stop it. I asked myself what I was doing. Would someone find out if I was too obvious or if I slipped up and said the wrong thing? But as I thought all of these things, he stared back at me with a smile. It's like I could hear in my mind what he was thinking, 'Oh, Potter, you sly doge.' I loved the way he looked at me, the way his deep brown eyes would sparkle. It didn't feel like just polite eye contact between friends or brothers. His gaze hit me like a lightning bolt.

Whenever he looked at me, I felt some sort of chemical reaction in my body. I would get an adrenaline rush. My heart would beat a little faster, I would get a little jittery. He made me nervous, but in a good way, in an exciting way. I think having slept together made me feel a little more connected to him, like somehow our bond was stronger because of it. It made us better friends and even better lovers. He was my first and I would never forget him.

I loved knowing that he would be by my side every day on the bus ride home. It was a comforting feeling, one that I held close to my heart. It could even turn a whole day around, which most days it did. And that day, once the bus dropped us off, he followed me home like a lost puppy dog. It was different now, things with us. We didn't even really have to say anything to know that us hanging out nearly every day was now a permanent and regular thing, a routine. It was implied.

We had a big test the next day. It's not like Boris ever really studied, considering his language barrier and attitude towards school & life in general...That was of course unless I made him or helped him study, which I pretty much always did, but he was a lost cause to begin with. I, on the other hand, was motivated. I wanted to try my best. I don't know why, but I did. It was just the way I was. And if I was doing it for anyone other than myself, it was definitely for my mom, not my dad…

"Aww, hey little guy," said Boris, holding my dog up to his face as he laid on his back. "Who's the cutest doge? You are, you are! *noses*"

I looked at him, slightly disturbed and at the same time adored by what I was seeing. He giggled as Popper licked his face like a windshield wiper. It was nearly impossible to focus now...I just couldn't pull away from the cuteness! So I let him out in order to concentrate.

To make matters worse, Boris pulled out a Marlboro from his pack, stuck it between his lips, and lit it up, the smoke blowing against my face like a cloud of car exhaust. Somehow though, it didn't gross me out, it made me want one myself. I think he started smoking to give him something to do. I think he was actually getting bored of annoying me, but once he had found out that he had gotten to me again, he was further encouraged to do it even more.

"You took one of Xandra's packs again?" I asked.

"*nods and laughs* You're so cute when you get mad…"

"*sighs* She's gonna kill me, but alright, you win! Gimme that," I said, snatching the cigarette out of his mouth and putting it in my own.

I took a puff. Oh, how good the bittersweet taste of nicotine felt on my tongue, how the cigarette stick felt between my fingers...It was gratifying.

"Bayter now?" he asked, giddily.

I grumbled and handed it back to him.

Several minutes later, I leaned over to find that he had dozed off, cigarette still in his mouth. I was afraid that he would choke on the butt, so I carefully slid it out of his mouth and flicked the tip off into the ashtray, one which we had shoplifted together. Luckily, he was sound asleep, and just when I thought I had rid myself of him for good, he rolled over towards me. He had no sense of personal space, even in his sleep, not to mention he was the WORST and loudest snorer on the planet! Even without trying to, he was still managing to find new ways to annoy me...

I could hear it, ringing in my ear. I had heard that when someone snores, you're supposed to roll them over in order to get them to stop. I tried doing this, but it only continued. I had had quite enough, so I yanked the covers from beneath him, tossing him onto the floor. He woke up groggily and said:

"Wot the fuck, man?!"

I flipped him off; he laughed.

Returning to my bed, he slid my glasses off of my face. I was farsighted, so I was practically blind without them and could no longer study my vocab.

"*scoffs* I can't see, you fucker!"

"I'll take them off only if you tail me wot you think," he said.

"About what?" I asked.

"Well?" he asked, trying them on himself and wanting to know my opinion.

"You look like Mia from The Princess Diaries before she got the makeover," I said, laughing.

"And seence when do you wotch princess movies?" he teased.

"I don't, I mean, I just- What? Shut up!"

*wheezes*

"I don't even know why I still put up with you sometimes...I hope you're happy!" I said.

"I am, thank you," he said, nudging me with a smile.

It was only a matter of time before I was interrupted once again, this time by my own socks being ripped off of my feet.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!"

"Hayving fun...Duh!"

"But my feet are cold…" I whined.

"Tough," he said.

Then he put them on his hands and made them talk to each other, having a little Polish puppet show.

"English!" I said.

"Nie!"

"This is your final warning…" I said.

"Oh, ees eet?" he asked.

"Okay, that's it! That's the last straw!"

"Damn, Potter. You acksholey hayd bayter tolerance than I thought," he said. "I'm impressed!"

"I'm going...to kill you…" I said.

"Uh oh," he said, trying to escape while he still could.

I had no other choice but to chase him around the house. He shoved chairs in front of me, used counters as railings, anything he could to get away free. And then he lied down, out of breath and sweating, arriving right where he started- my bedroom.

Boris knew just what would make me laugh, just what would set me off, just what would get under my skin, and just what would wanna make me drop everything and kiss him-

"Man, ees et hot in here or ees that just me?" he asked, taking off his shirt.

"Fuck off," I said.

"Don't you mean fuck me?"

"Mm, tempting...but no."

"C'mon, why not?"

"Because *sighs* we said it would just be a one time-"

"Aht! *holds up 4 fingers* Four time," he said, implying that it wasn't just once.

"*rolls eyes* Four time thing…"

"Yeah, but you know you wunt to do eet again..."

"I really don't!"

"You shore about that?" he asked, sliding his hand up my thigh.

"Please don't do that…" I said breathlessly.

"Why? Es et tarning you on, Walrus Dick?"

"N-N-No…"

"Reelee? Becoz your pants are saying otherwise!"

"What?" I asked.

*Boris points with eyes*

"*looks down* Shit! Fuck- I'm gonna-gonna go take care of this…"

"Oh right, like you can stand ope right now weeth that stiff one!" he laughed.

"Just shut up, I can't hear myself think," I said.

I started whispering nonsense to myself, thinking through a chain of thoughts that would calm down my "situation." I thought about pleasant things like sports, then scary world conflicts and even scarier politicians, but then there were those interfering thoughts, like Pippa's beauty and the alternate universe where I didn't have to think it away, where instead Boris helped relieve me of my bulge.

"*scoffs* Fine, just make it quick," I would say to him.

"Poot that stuff aside. Get under the covers," he would command.

"Okay."

And he too would get under them and give me head, making my eyes roll back with pleasure.

Several minutes later, his head would pop out from the covers like a Jack in the Box, resting his chin on my stomach, and saying 'Crisis averted' as he kissed my belly button.

"Thanks for...Well, you know..." I would say awkwardly.

"Of course! Wot are friends for!" he would reply.

"Definitely not this," I would say, laughing.

But obviously this was all just some twisted wet dream of a fantasy I was having and it wasn't helping any, so I dug deeper. I thought about animals that really freaked me out and finally, disappointments, like the day my dad left us. It also didn't help that Boris was shouting words like 'boobies' to counteract the ones I was trying to think about, the bastard, but luckily, the last thought did the trick.

"And...we're back," I said.

"Eet's shame you deedn't let me blow you. I would hayve offered!" he said.

"And let you enjoy this? Nah, you lost that right today."

"Oh, Potter...Why so touchy?"

"*sighs* Because you keep being such a pest!" I said, laughing at all of the shit he pulled that day.

"Sorry. M-Maybe I shood just go…"

"No, wait-" I said, grabbing ahold of his wrist as he got up. "Don't go! Stay..."

"Why shood I? You don't wunt me here, you've made that very clear..."

"No, I do! I'm sorry, can we start over? I'm just really stressed right now, but I promise I want you here."

"You shore?"

"Positive. Please, don't leave."

"Okay, I'll stay. I'll even poot myself on mute...for you."

I nudged his shoulder with my own, smiling, though secretly thinking to myself Finally, some peace and quiet, but then, of course, 10 minutes later...

"*sets books down* Would you quit staring at me?" I asked, annoyed but flattered.

"Sorry, Potter, I'm afraid I can't hailp you there. You're just too much fun to observe."

"Yeah, go figure! You're not helping at ALL!"

"Ees not like you need my hailp. You're smart, Potter. I know et, you know et, everybody knows et!"

"Stop trying to get on my good side...If you're going to just sit there, you should at least be studying," I said with a scolding smile.

"I am. Eet's coled Theology, the study ove Theo, the study ove God…"

I blushed, I blushed a lot. I couldn't help but!

That day, as I continued to push on and he continued to procrastinate, he would find any excuse that he could to distract me from my studying. Boris wasn't the type of person who made you a better person. He was the type of person you went to for an escape, an escape from reality. He was a shoulder to cry on, someone to venture with, a friend to confide in. He wasn't just one thing, he was many. He was a hoarder of my attention, even if that meant a bad means of grabbing it. Luckily, however, I had a plan…

"Alright, Pastor Pavlikovsky." I joked. "*closes book* Tell you what: How 'bout you help me study?"

"*groans* You're obsessed, Potter! Eet's not like eet's the Sat..."

"The Sat?" I asked, laughing.

"Yeah, you know, the taste you take before you go off to college. Et uh, tails you IQ and determines future and shit..."

"I'm sorry, you mean the SAT?"

"SAT, shmessaytee. Same difference."

"Idiot!" I said.

"That may be, but you, Potter, are a train station whore!"

"Low blow, man, *laughs* low blow…"

"Heh heh, blow."

"You are a child!" I said.

"At least eet geeves you excuse to cole me baby…"

"Shut uhuhhuhup," I said, laughing. "Seriously, quit screwing around!"

"Okay, I forfeit. Show me wot you wunt me to do."

"Finally!" I said. "Just call out the words on those flashcards and quiz me on the definitions."

"Oleright, I'll try my baste, but sorry if I mispronounce anything…"

"Dude, you're fine! Don't sweat it."

"Huh?" he asked.

"It's an expression. Just don't worry about it, man."

"I'll make mental note," he said. "Okay, first word: Bill ove Rights."

"The first 10 amendments to the U.S. Constitution that guarantee individual rights and limitations on the federal and state governments."

"Damn, Potter! And weech documents deed eet derive from originally?"

"The Magna Carta and the English Bill of Rights."

"Thayse correct. Good. Now, tail me, Potter, wot ees common good?"

"Isn't it the product of a particular process...like a democratic one? I know that it applies to a functional or collective as opposed to individuals of an enterprise."

"All ove the above," he said. "And wot about John Locke? Who woz he?"

"He was...an enlightenment thinker and philosopher who wrote of natural rights and inspired the writers of the Declaration on Independence, for example, with his idea of life, liberty, and property."

"Jesus, you're starting to scare me a littull…" he said.

I laughed. And things continued like that until we were called for dinner, a microwaved delight, as always, that wasn't really delightful at all, but that was Xandra for you.

I walked him home that night, as we gazed at the stars above with the same fondness that came from gazing at each other. I hugged him, chin to shoulder and left with a big smile on my face. He had done nothing but annoy me all day long, yet I already missed him terribly. What can I say- He brought the color into my life when it was all dark and gray.

The next day, I was eager to get to school and kick this test's ass while sitting alongside my one and only friend, my best friend. When I read the vocab words in the questions, I read them in his voice. Was it just because he had quizzed me on them or was there another reason? I didn't know, but I couldn't get him out of my head and this certainly wasn't helping disprove that. Sometimes he would cheat off of me, but this time, he actually knew the material pretty well, and I wonder why that was…

"How'd you do?" I asked him a week later.

"I-I got 95…" he said, utterly shocked.

"Wait to go, man! That's awesome," I said, punching his shoulder.

"Thanks...I gayce I just reelee must've absorbed that material when I quizzed you on eet last week."

"How 'bout that!" I said, playing along.

"Wait a minute, Potter...Something smells fishy…" he said.

"There it is!" I said in a sing-songy voice as I watched a lightbulb go off in his head.

"Thees woz your plan ole along, wozn't eet? To trick me into studying?"

"Guilty," I said, holding my right hand up.

"Oh, Potter...I cood keese you right now!"

I blushed, but then realizing how that sounded out loud, we broke eye contact turned back to our desks. It was funny to hear him say that though somehow, as we only really kissed when there was sex involved, unless we were just drunk or high off our asses...Then there's no telling what we'd do! Still though, it was nice to hear those words coming out of his mouth and know that we had, and likely would, kiss again.


	4. I Want To Ride My *Bi*cycle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I named this chapter after the lyric from the Queen song "Bicycle Race," and as I'm sure some of you know, Freddie Mercury was bi, just like these two bicons ^_^ This chapter's also very fluffy and in more ways than one, wink wink. (You'll get it later, don't worry) Enjoy!

Though it was a nice and sunny day outside, Boris spent most of the day indoors, in his room, listening to music. It was only natural, given how much he hated the sun. Reclined back on his bed, he said he could hear faint pecking noises over his blasting music, the sounds of the three small pebbles I threw at his window, hoping to capture his attention.

I rode there on a bike. I had been riding around the neighborhood and decided to make a pit stop at his house, but threw the rocks at his window in case his dad was still home and he couldn't come to the front door.

"Psst...Boris!" I yelled in a whisper voice.

He pushed up his window with an odd look on his face.

"Potter? Well, thees ees a surprise…*pauses* Uh, hang tight, I'll be right down."

I gave him a thumbs up.

*slide door opens*

"Hey," he said, walking out with crossed arms, as if cold.

"Hey."

"Ees that a bike?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'll tell you more about it later, but is your dad still home?"

"Yeah, he ees, but I hate to tarne you away..." he said, rubbing my arm.

"Unless!" I said.

"Unless wot, Potter?"

"You could make up some excuse to leave and then we could ride around for a bit...I don't know, just a suggestion."

"Well, you've cahm ole thees way with bike, we might as well take her out for joy ride, right? Eet would only be fair."

"Right! Right, it would only be fair."

"Sounds like plan. I'll go make up story or something. Don't go anywhere," he said, poking my chest.

I snuck by the side of the house, eavesdropping. It wasn't something I normally did, but knowing how his dad treated him, I felt inclined to stay close and intervene if absolutely necessary. Plus, it was just fun to try and decipher what they were saying based on the very few words and phrases I had picked up from Boris over the weeks. Then, once I knew he had gotten the okay, I rolled the bike over and stood beside it, probably trying to look a lot cooler than I actually was.

"Seence when do you hayve bike anyway?" he asked.

"Since yesterday. Sometimes my dad buys me what I call 'guilt gifts' when he's been stealing my money to buy beer or make shit investments that never pan out."

"Hah! Who knew being the son ove an alcoholic had eets perks?!"

"I certainly didn't!"

"Wot are you going to poot in your girly littull basket there?"

"I'll have you know that I was going to put our precious little dog in it."

"Our?"

"Yeah. Don't you think you've earned co-ownership at this point?"

"Dude..." he said, nudging my shoulder with flattered gratitude.

I tousled his hair in response.

"Wait, but where ees Popchyk?"

"We're going to go pick him up."

"Es that right?" he asked.

"Yeah. Hop on," I said, patting the seat and making sure to leave some room behind me.

"Oleright," he said. "No helmet, huh?"

"I live on the edge!" I said.

"Seence when?"

"Since you."

"*smirks, chuckles* Thought so…" he said.

"Hold on tight," I said, as we took off.

And he did. He held clung to me so sweetly, his chest to my back, his chin and cheek to my shoulder, and his arms lassoed around my waist. I felt protected somehow, with him tied around me like a cardigan you'd take off when it was too hot out.

The place in which we lived may not have been cold, but even though it was hot, it was still plenty windy. I loved feeling the hot skies breathe against my face as we passed through the air, a single entity. We were one with the world.

"Popchyk! Oh, how I've meesed you!" he said, picking him up like Simba from The Lion King. "Where are we taking heem?"

"I don't know...I was thinking maybe the dog park."

"There's doge park? Around here?"

"Yeah!"

"Where?" he asked.

"Just a couple of blocks up the street."

"And you're shore?"

"Yes, I'm shore," I said, imitating him.

"Haha, very funny," he said in response.

"You want to pedal this time?" I asked.

"Uh, no, I'm good, thanks."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Becoz I- *pauses* I just don't wunt to."

"*gasps* You don't know how, do you?" I said, slightly amused.

*shakes head*

"Well, it's decided. I'm teaching you today."

"Oh, Potter, I don't know…"

"What don't you know?" I asked. "Aww, c'mon, Boris...Don't get all shy now! It's only me, ya big chicken!"

"I am not cheeken…"

"Bock, bock, bock, bock…"

"Oh, fuck you, Potter!"

"P-p-p-pkat! Pkat!"

"*rolls eyes, sighs* Oleright. You hayve yourself deal."

"Alright!" I said eagerly. "Let's stick with the plan and go to the dog park, then I can teach you there."

"You're such a planner..." he said.

"I am not!"

"You are too!"

"Hey, I've come a long way...Back in New York, I would've been caught dead before doing any of the shit we do around here!"

"I saved you from lifetime ove misery and unhappiness, Potter. When life heets you in face, you just gotta roll with eet. Leeve by your own rules, no one else's."

"You are by far the wisest dumbass I know."

"I'll take that as compliment."

"You should...troublemaker" I said, with a smile.

"Oh, ees that my nickname now?"

"Could be," I said.

"*chuckles* I'll take eet," he said.

And we rode off.

The dog parks in Las Vegas were far from glamorous. Ours was this dry, old, open field with not a soul there to be seen. It was almost like a ghost town or something, but then again, the whole neighborhood was really...At least they had a small little playground set for us to hang out on.

"Wot are peepull even supposed to do around here? There's no trail or anything…"

"I don't know…" I said. "But we can still let Popper sniff around a bit while we chill."

"Oleright."

Popper was a curious little pup. He was fascinated by the most unusual things and unhindered by the things that normally baffled dogs. He was so prissy and so playful, always prancing and hopping about. He even peed like a girl!

As Boris and I were gabbing on the bench, Popper was getting into all kinds of trouble…

"10 o'clock," said Boris.

"What do you mean? It's only 5:30."

"No, Potter, 10 o'clock," he said, raising his eyebrows and pointing with his eyes.

"Whoa…" I said, suddenly seeing the girl he was trying to get me to notice.

"I saw her checking you out earlier."

"Bullshit!" I said.

"Okay, maybe not, but she's pretty. Why don't you go tawk to her?"

"And say what?! Hi, I'm an idiot?"

"No...Just be cool."

"But I'm not."

"Yeah, you are," he said.

"No, you are."

"Then be me!"

"Now that's an idea," I laughed.

"*sighs* The clock ees ticking, Potter…*clicks tongue*"

"Why me? Why don't you talk to her?"

"Becoz...She's not my type."

"I thought anyone was your type."

"Common misconception."

"Well, then what should I say...What would you do?"

"A true magician nayver reveals his tricks, Potter…" he said with a wink.

"Some Houdini you are!" I said.

"C'mon, Potter. I'm not the only one with magic name. You've got et too, I know you do."

"I do?"

"Yes! Stop being so unshore ove yourself. You're- Uh oh…" he said.

"What? What is it?"

"Well, eet looks like your dog introduced heemself before you cood…"

"Son of a bitch! Popper, no! Stop that!" I said, running towards him...and the girl.

He was humping her leg, so much that she fell in the mud. Then he started dragging her.

"Oh my god! I'm SO sorry! He's not usually like this…" I said picking him up. "Here, let me give yo ua hand."

"Thanks," she said shyly. "I'm Arabelle, but you can call me Bella."

"Theo," I said, shaking her hand. "Lovely name."

She smiled. Her hand was soft and small and I could feel her pulse racing against my own.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, I think. Just a little embarrassed, that's all…"

"Embarrassed? Why?"

"Hah, like you didn't just see me totally wipe out and fall on my ass…"

"*laughs* Your secret's safe with me," I said with a wink.

"Oh great! I got mud all over my white jeans…" she said, looking at her side.

"Well, if it weren't for my dumbass dog, you wouldn't have a splotch on you!"

"Aww, it's okay. He's really cute anyway."

"So's yours!" I said.

"Aww, thank you! Her name's Phoebe."

"Mine's Popper, although my friend over there calls him Popchyk."

She waved at him.

"I think I should get going, but it was nice to meet you, Theo."

"Well, I would've liked to make a better first impression, but I guess it's not always up to you…"

"*laughs* I like you just fine," she said. "Hopefully I'll see you around..."

Suddenly, I looked back at Boris, who was giving me all kinds of crazy hand signals. I interpreted them the best that I could.

"Wait!" I said.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Take my jacket. You can use it to cover the mud."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's the least I can do."

"Such a gentleman..." she said, surprised.

"No problem," I said.

"Never seen you around here...Where do you go to school?"

"Same as you, but I'm new, so, you probably wouldn't know me."

"No, but I'd like to…" she said. "Here, here's my number. Give me a call sometime."

"Alright, I will," I said.

"Thanks again," she said.

"No sweat!"

"If I see you at school, I'll give you your jacket back, but if not, well...the ball's in your court."

"Good to know," I said.

"Bye now…" she said.

"Bye," I said inaudibly.

Shortly after that, I walked back to Boris, who was freaking out.

"Dude!" he said, shaking me by the shoulders. "She woz totally into you!"

"How do you know she wasn't just being friendly?"

"Becoz, I deedn't wake up just yesterday!"

"Well, what makes you think she was into me?"

"Becoz, she woz totally heeting on you just now!"

"Yeah, right…" I said.

"She woz! Deed you not see when she practically showed you her ass?"

"No, I must've missed that part," I said, laughing.

"Read between the lines, Potter! She woz totally heeting on you…"

"I guess…"

"I'm so proud! I knew you hayd eet in you…" he said, punching my shoulder. "Tonight, we must celebrate."

"Oh no, every time you say celebrate, we end up waking up in a fucking dumpster or something!"

"C'mon, Potter, hayve a littull fun weeth me, huh?"

"*sighs* Fine, but if anyone asks, it was your idea. It's always your idea…"

"I take full responsibility!"

"Wait a minute...You're just trying to get out of our bike lesson, aren't you?"

"*sighs* I thought you'd forgotten by now…"

"Hah, nice try! C'mon, mister."

"Oleright, but we steel celebrate after?"

"Absolutely! By then, we'll have two things to celebrate…"

He smiled at me.

"Well, let's get on with it then! We're running out of daylight here."

"Oleright."

"And please, try not to make Popper sick," I said, placing him in the wicker basket at the front of the bike. "I'm putting his life in your hands."

"I woodent dream ove et," he responded.

"Alrighty then. Let's get this show on the road!" I said with a clap.

As he rode around the perimeter of the playground, I guided him. I held his back with one hand on each side, tilting him to the left and right. I did this to help him steer the bike by leaning his body. As I leaned to the right, he would steer to the left. As I leaned to the left, he would steer to the right. He was a little rusty at first, crashing into things, but then he really got the hang of it, and I just held my hands near his back with some space in between them, in case I needed to catch him.

He looked so good there, the wind blowing through his fluffy, wispy hair so effortlessly...It confused me beyond anything else, how I could like him and that girl from before. I wasn't gay. I didn't like guys like that until him, but maybe I was starting to...Maybe he was the man to change me. Truth be told, he already had.

"You did it!" I said.

"Coodent hayve without your hailp!" he said.

I was so proud of him, as he had been of me. He hopped off and I reached to hug him so suddenly that I let go of the grip on my bike until it fell to the ground. Then, I propped it back up with the kickstand, shrugged, and went back to hug him for real. He was so tall, much taller than me; I had to reach up on my tippy toes just to throw my arms around him. I almost didn't want to let go, but once we did, we left the hug staring at each other, with a nervous deer in headlights look, wondering what would happen if our mouths were to meet. It felt as if there was a whole other world swimming beyond his eyes, one that went on for miles. We knew what the other was thinking, a stare so telepathic. He bit his lip and I pushed my glasses up.

"We shood...geet going…" he said.

"Yeah, yeah, we should g-go," I said, nervously.

It was high time that we celebrated, despite my reluctance for whatever was to come next.

"Oh shit," I said.

"Wot?" he asked.

"Well, I think we're going to have to bathe Popper before we do anything crazy tonight. I mean, just take a look at him...He's filthy!"

"Not a problem," he said. "Well, wot are you standing there for? Hop on!"

"You want to pedal this time?" I asked.

"Yeah, wozn't that kind ove the point ove me learning today."

"Right," I said, smiling to myself.

I finally understood what those biker couples were all about. It was nice, easy, comfortable...I'm sorry- Did I just say couple?

"Dad, we're home!"

*no answer*

"Dad?" I repeated again. "Huh, looks like he's not here."

"Xandra neither," he said, having wandered around to check.

"Well! I guess we're all here by ourselves…"

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock!" he said.

"What should we do?"

"Definitely not wot we deed the last time they were gone!"

"Definitely not!" I said, laughing along with him.

We sighed ourselves into silence.

"I like how things aren't awkward between us," I said.

"Right, becoz if someone walked in here, they would say 'Look at those two totally normal bros, I bet they nayver fucked,' but we deed. We fucked."

"Oh my god…*laughs* That would never happen!" I said.

"Okay, maybe not, but steel," he said, laughing nervously.

I laughed some more. Then he reached out to pick up the dog, saying:

"C'mon, Popchyk. Lez geet you cleaned up, buddy…"

And we walked into the bathroom, running the water.

"Wot shampoo should we use?" he asked.

"We usually just use baby shampoo," I said.

"Yes, coz he's our littull baby, yes he ees!" he said, inching closer to the dog's face.

"Here, I'll get some towels. Suds him up a bit, will you?"

"Shore."

He whimpered, hating the cold water as much as Boris despised the sun. From the other room, I could hear Boris saying:

"Oh, eet's okay, Popchyk...Eet'll be over before you know et!"

"Really? You gave him a mohawk?" I asked, returning.

"Wot? Eet's cute, no?"

"Yeah, okay, it's really cute," I said.

And we continued to lather him with soap, our hands touching in the process.

"Hey, Potter," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Heads ope!" he said, blowing bubbles in my face.

"Oh, it's going down, Pavlikovsky!" I said, splashing him with soapy water.

Wet shirts, damp hair, crooked glasses, and slippery floors, we created a big mess with this back and forth thing we had going on, but we didn't mind. We had a blast.

"We should...probably finish with Popper, don't you think? I mean, it's getting late. I don't want your dad to get mad."

"No, eet's okay. He woz home earlier, but he steel has graveyard sheeft."

"Oh okay…"

"Wot is it, Potter?"

"What? Nothing," I said.

"No, you're thinking something, I can tell…"

"Well, I guess *sighs* I was wondering *pause* why you haven't told your dad about me yet...Popper's not the only secret you're keeping from him...I know I'm one too."

"I don't tail heem about you, Potter becoz the less he knows, the bayter. Becoz I don't wunt to give heem any reason to hurt you like he hurts me. I wood nayver wunt that."

"What makes you think he'd hurt me?"

"I don't know...Like if he coat us smoking something or doing something...but maybe eet's just some sealy fear of mine, losing you."

"Why would you lose me?"

"I don't know, I just seem to lose everything that I love. I feel like I'm oleways driving peepull away or that I'll do something that hurts them and they won't be able to forgive me."

"Boris, you're the only reason I even like this place! I'm not going to leave you high and dry."

"Well, I can't promise I won't be high when that time comes."

"Neither can I," I said with a smile.

Then we turned back to the dog.

"Look at that...Clean as a whistle!"

"And floefee too!"

*Popper shakes off water*

"Ah!" we both reacted.

Then we dried him off and blow-dried his hair a bit.

"Well, guess we're all done here. What do you wanna do next?"

"Two words, Potter: Champ Agne."

"That's one word, dumbass," I said, laughing.

"No, I don't think so...Why else wood eet hayve the word champ in eet if et woz just one word?"

"Crazy coincidence?"

"No, Potter, becoz et is meant for the champions."

"Champions of what?"

"Anything...and everything."

"I'm intrigued. Let's drink!"

"Lez make toast!" said Boris.

"Why? It's past dinner, and waaay past breakfast!"

*cuts eyes*

"Oh, you meant- Oh…" I said.

"Now who's the dumbass?" he asked.

"Okay, you caught me," I said. "*holds up glass* To the little victories."

"*clinks* To the littull victories!" Boris chanted.

About 3 or 4 glasses in, we were totally wasted, unaware of our surroundings, nor what we were doing. I blacked out for a bit and suddenly woke up, shirtless, facing Boris in the bathtub, which was filled with milk and Froot Loops floating around, not to mention that empty bottle of champagne.

"Well, I gotta say...When you said celebrate, *laughs* this is not at ALL what I was picturing!"

"Me either," he said, laughing.


	5. Joint At The Hip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, full disclosure, they're actually not going to use joints to get high, but it's still pot and it was a cute title, so I went with it anyway, lol. Anyway, I'm very excited about this chapter because I'm introducing a new character that's actually straight out of the novel but that they failed to include in the movie. I went back and read every page she was mentioned on, so I kind of restated some of that while putting my own twist on it as well (this is all more so towards the end of the chapter, but a little at the beginning too), but just know that I will never be able to write this love triangle like the great Donna Tartt. She's spectacular, truly! Her paragraph about Theo missing and characterizing Boris when Kotku comes into their lives is completely flawless and nothing short of amazing- I'm not even going to try and begin to replicate it! Also, sorry for making Theo bitch and rant about Kotku for like 15 paragraphs, but he does have a lot to say about her and Boris in the book. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think! (P.S. In case you were wondering what Boris said in Polish, it was 'You're a nutjob!')

Hey guys! So, full disclosure, they're actually not going to use joints to get high, but it's still pot and it was a cute title, so I went with it anyway, lol. Anyway, I'm very excited about this chapter because I'm introducing a new character that's actually straight out of the novel but that they failed to include in the movie. I went back and read every page she was mentioned on, so I kind of restated some of that while putting my own twist on it as well (this is all more so towards the end of the chapter, but a little at the beginning too), but just know that I will never be able to write this love triangle like the great Donna Tartt. She's spectacular, truly! Her paragraph about Theo missing and characterizing Boris when Kotku comes into their lives is completely flawless and nothing short of amazing- I'm not even going to try and begin to replicate it! Also, sorry for making Theo bitch and rant about Kotku for like 15 paragraphs, but he does have a lot to say about her and Boris in the book. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think! (P.S. In case you were wondering what Boris said in Polish, it was 'You're a nutjob!')

Boris and I were crap communicators. It was as simple as that. Sometimes we could have the longest talks and the deepest conversations, and other times, there was so much tension in the air that we sold ourselves to silence. I think it was just that we were afraid of the truth, the truth that we were stuck on each other like glue. It was for that reason that phone conversations weren't our thing. Our relationship was too interpersonal for that, but of course, we used it if necessary.

With each time we were intimate and I was sober enough to think clearly and logically, I asked myself if he felt as I did. Even if the answer was so far out of reach, I asked that he would save the distant answer, hold it long, and reflect on it time and again. If each touch was a message, I asked that he would signal softly anything on his mind. And I would react to his touch so he knew that it wasn't wrong, it was mutual. Boris was an itch that I couldn't stop scratching. Our spark was the beautiful destruction of an unattended candle and his disorder brought order to my life. We understood each other's pain.

When we slept together, it was only ever when under the influence. Even if it was on our minds at other times, neither of us wanted to look desperate or needy, but when we were drunk, all of the rules didn't seem to apply anymore...because there were none. Anything went! There were no boundaries of any sort, it didn't matter who started things and who finished them. We were each other's entirely. Whether we had actually done the deed or had just happened to pass out in the same bed, we still passed it off as the same regardless, acting like it was always just the alcohol talking.

And then it occurred to me, maybe we were friends with benefits. Maybe that's what this was. We were close, we were reckless, and most of all, we were just two intoxicated, horny teenage boys. Somehow this label made it acceptable to me, but really, I knew what we had was deeper than I was willing to admit. I told myself all kinds of things to justify it in the eyes of others. There was just no use.

But then again, sex was the only real time I could act on my feelings, the only time I could make sense of what this was, what we were, who I was. When communication wouldn't suffice, we would just lie in bed together, sheets draped over our chests, legs entangled, holding onto a perfect moment that we'd engrave in our compromised memories the best that we could. And blissful were those moments when we didn't care what anyone else thought, where we lived in the moment and nowhere else, when things were better than they had ever been. Yet he continued to look over his shoulder and down at his watch, eyes darting as if distracted or afraid of being caught. And afterward, whenever one of us snuck out of the house, it was always a question of Do we kiss? Do we hug? Or none of the above? Our relationship was a dance with dissonance, and yet, other times, complete harmony.

One morning, however, when we woke up, the taste of beer, vodka, and god knows what else lingering on our tongues, our bodies aching from head to toe, I could feel this growing distance between us. He was more skittish than normal, his face stricken with guilt like a toddler who scribbled on the walls. Did he regret what we did or had he done something to me? After that one off interaction, everything started to add up. He was in love...with a girl.

"I brought you a littull something…" he said with an eager, lip-pressing expression.

"Oh yeah? Whatcha got there? Coffee?"

"*laughs* Don't be fooled, Potter," he said, extending what appeared to be a bong disguised as a coffee cup.

"What the fuck is that?!"

"A bong, you idiot!"

I took it out of his hand, wanting to see for myself.

"*laughs* Oh my god, where did you get this?"

"From Kotku."

"Who?"

"You remember that chick from Civeecs? Kaylee? The one who got the acid for us?"

"Right, right. So, she just gave you her bong? That was nice…"

"Well, not eggzackly...I mean, I bought some weed from her, but I paid a littull extra for the bong."

"So why do you call her Kotku then?"

"Well, thayse the thing, Potter...I think I'm...in love with her!"

"*gulps* Oh, I see…So, it's a pet nickname then?" I asked, suddenly not feeling as special.

"Yeah, Kitty Cate in Polish. Sometimes I cole her Kotyku in Ukrainian. I like to alternate between the two, but gode- She's just so beautiful and she's eighteen too! Booze-buying, legal adult and everything!"

"So, what is she now? Like your girlfriend or something?" I asked, laughing.

"Yeah, acksholey. She kind ove ees...well, eet's looking that way anyway."

"Oh," I said, suddenly silent, my face growing hot.

I didn't want to care, but I did.

"Hey," he said, lifting my chin up on his knuckles. "You don't look so good. Why don't you take a heet?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks…"

"Tarning down weed? C'mon, you're bayter than that!" he said. "Why the sad face, Potter? Eet's in your fucking name after all!"

"What is?"

"Pot!"

"Oh...r-right…"

"Wot's the matter with you?"

"I don't know, Boris, what's the matter with you?"

"Nothing! I'm just trying to tarne that frown upside down."

It wasn't that long ago that Boris had dedicated a whole day just to celebrate my birthday. We had probably had the most fun we'd ever had, lighting cigarettes with birthday candles, partaking in his weird-ass birthday customs, skinny dipping in the pool, drinking until we could no longer walk in a straight line, and opening presents that he had clearly stolen for me, but still, it was the thought that counted, right? Even my own father had forgotten about my birthday and naturally, I was pissed, but Boris made up for it entirely.

Now though, I could feel my mind starting to go to dark places. I felt like a fool, thinking about how all this time we had spent bonding and getting high together, he had been getting closer to the girl who dealt us drugs in the first place. The guilt I saw in his face earlier, that was why...She was why, but the thing was, I didn't know if he felt more guilty for having slept with me while he was starting a relationship with her or for having started a relationship with her while he was sleeping with me. Maybe it was both.

"Potter, hayve I offended you in some way? Becoz if I hayve, please! Tail me."

"No, it's nothing. Gimme that," I said, snatching it out of his hands.

"Go nuts!" he said, laughing.

He had already filled it up, grind the weed, and packed it in the bowl, then guided my hands on the bong until I got the hang of how it worked.

Boris was right, I did feel better. I was no longer all hot and bothered and what's her face was the least of our worries now. In fact, she didn't come back up again.

"Oleright, Smokey The Bear, I think you've hayd quite enough!" he said, trying to snatch it away from me.

I shook my head, taking one last hit, then letting go completely. At first, I hardly felt a thing and then it started to kick in…

"Neat little trinket, huh?" he asked, holding up the bong. "Kinda like a big ole hooy morzhovy..."

I laughed hysterically. And then I thought to myself- Did I just understand that?

"Wait, Boris, man, I'm freaking out...Why did I just understand what you said?"

"Becoz I already taught you et. Et means-"

I didn't listen. Instead, I just asked him to say other words.

"No seriously, I think I can understand you…" I said, mesmerized.

"*laughs* No you can't, dummy. You're understanding ole of thees becoz I've taught you eet before. These are ole words and phrases I've said around you."

"Prove it then. Say something in Polish or Ukrainian or whatever the fuck else you speak!"

"Oleright, I will. Jesteś wariatem!"

"Uh...Was it-"

*Popper barks*

"Wait, shh! Deed you hear that?" he asked.

"Hear what?" I asked.

"The doge. I think I can understand heem too…"

"*laughs in disbelief* Now you're the one that's tripping," I teased.

"No seriously, leesin! I swear to gode eet sounds like he's saying 'Boris'."

"Holy shit, you're right! When he barks it sounds like your name and when he sighs, it sounds like mine…"

"Man, are we baked or wot?" he asked, laughing again.

"Heh heh, baked. That's a funny word," I said, laughing with him.

"You know wot else ees funny word? Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious."

"Huhuhahaha!" I said, falling back laughing.

And then I started to get really confused...

"Am I wearing your shirt? H-How did that happen?"

"*laughs* We were playing strip poker and you stole eet from me."

"Wait, but you're not wearing a shirt…" I said poking the middle of his chest.

"You don't say!" he said, with a straight face that turned giddy.

We broke out into a fit of laughter, hands slapping knees, snorts escaping nostrils, knocking into each other clumsily.

"Hey, you know that movie? The one where that spaceship crew takes voyage to defeat that commander Nero and those two guys uh...Kirk and Spock! Kirk and Spock won't queet beetching, but they hayve to in order to complete their meeshun and defeat the dude? And Spock's a part of that race of human-looking aliens...Oh wot ees eet coled...Star Wars! That's eet, Star Wars. Anyways, I hayven't seen that in a whyull, we should rent it," he said.

"*laughs* Boris, that's Star Trek, not Star Wars!"

"Nuh uh!"

"Yuh huh!"

"Eh, same deefrence," he said, shrugging it off.

"Actually, it's really not."

"Oleright. Enlighten me then!"

"Gladly!" I said. "Okay, well, first of all, Star Trek was a television series first and then it eventually became a movie series. Star Wars is only a movie series, but then some cartoons like Clone Wars were made about it."

"Wait, so weech ees eet? Movies or episodes?"

"Both, but whatever, that's not the point. The point is that probably the most famous Star Wars movie, which I'm sure is the one that you've seen, is the one where Darth Vader holds Princess Leia hostage in order to put a stop to the rebellion against the Galactic Empire, and then Luke Skywalker and Han Solo work together with R2-D2 and C-3PO to rescue her, help the Rebel Alliance, and restore freedom and justice to the Galaxy."

"You know, I can see that you're tawking, but ole that I hear es BLA, BLA, BLA!" he said, pinching his fingers and thumb together repeatedly.

I laughed like a moron.

"Hey, Potter! Koo...KEE...Koo...KEE...Spock, I am your father."

"*sighs, rolls eyes* May the force be with him," I mumbled to myself, then yelling. "It's Luke, you dumbass!"

"Oh. Maybe you are right..." he said, laughing some more.

"You know what? I forgot! The line's actually 'No. I am your father.' It's a Mandela Effect."

"A wot?"

"A Mandela Effect. It's this concept where nearly everyone around the globe remembers something wrong."

"So ees like an illusion?"

"Yeah, sorta. The theory goes that we've actually switched into a different parallel universe or that somebody went back in time or changed something small and then that thing changed a lot of other things."

"Well, shit- That's crazy...Why's eet coled the Mandela Effect though?"

"Oh, a lot of people remember Nelson Mandela, this anti-apartheid, South African activist dying in prison, but really, that never happened.

"I swear, Potter, sometimes, you're way too smart for me..."

"*laughs* You know all this talk about Star Wars kinda makes me wanna watch it. What do you say?"

"When deed we tawk about Star Wars?" he asked.

"Were you checked out during that entire conversation?" I snapped.

*shrugs*

"Oh c'mon! Don't you remember? We were talking about how Darth Vader saying 'No, I am your father' is a Mandela Effect?"

"Oh, right, right...Sorry, I'm a littull ole over the place," he said, laughing.

"Me too. I feel kind of...hungry...and...angry. I think I'm hangry, huhahaha. I've never felt both at once."

"I think you hayve a case of the munchies, Potter."

"Well, don't you?"

"Yeah, actually. Better to eat now than watch movie on empty stomach!"

We practically had a potluck (pun intended), eating a whole box of chocolate chip cookies, half a tub of cheese balls, and a bowl of popcorn between the two of us.

"My tongue is dry…" I said.

"Yeah, mine too," he said.

"You think we're thirsty?"

"Probably so. We deed just eat a whole box of cookies and a lot of salt."

"Hmm...Ooh, I know! We should have milk!"

"Genius, Potter! You're a genius!"

"Okay, let's go. On the count of 3: 1, 2, thr-"

*complete silence*

"*sighs heavily* I don't think I can get ope...My feet feel like dumbbells..."

"You're a dumbbell," I said, poking his nose and giggling.

*giggles*

"Hey, maybe if the two of us really focus, we could move the kitchen closer with our minds."

*both attempt*

"I don't...think eet's working."

"Eh, it's my fault, I'm not concentrating."

"Yes, that must be why we can't move a whole ass kitchen over here!" he said.

"Alright, have it your way then. C'mon, grab my hand," I said, helping him up.

"Thank you," he said.

"Uh, Boris, you haven't let go of my hand yet," I said, looking into his beautiful, bloodshot eyes.

"Oh, *laughs* sorry."

"That's okay, but I kinda need it to get the milk."

He laughed. Then I got it out of the fridge and tried pouring it into a glass, but was having more difficulty with it than I was expecting to.

"Huh, that's weird...Nothing's coming out..." I said, shaking it.

"Maybe eet's empty," he suggested.

"No, it's full, feel it," I said, handing it to him.

"Oh my god- Potter! You are so fucked ope right now! You hayve to pull the loop down to unblock the hole!"

"Oh. Huhuhahahaha!"

I started playing with it as if I was a cat and it was a door stopper on the wall, cracking myself up even more, and Boris too.

"Oh, for the love of gode, wood you just let me open et?!" he asked, still laughing a little.

But instead of pouring it into a glass, he just put the nozzle up to his mouth and chugged it from the carton, the milk dripping down his chest and to the floor. Staring at his bare chest, I was suddenly reminded of why it was bare in the first place. I looked down at my shirt, or his shirt rather, and these paranoid thoughts started to creep in my mind, like maybe we had never actually slept together. What if I had just imagined it all because a part of me wanted it to happen or maybe he had just switched our clothes or stripped down to convince me that we had. But then I just shook it off and began watching A New Hope.

And later, after we gawked at Princess Leia, I dragged Boris out to the garage, where I came out with two pool noodles, red and blue. I threw him the red one and began jousting him the blue, reenacting Obi-Wan and Darth Vader's lightsaber showdown in a sword fight to the death...but not really. Instead, we just pushed each other into the pool and swam for a bit.

And when my dad and Xandra came home, I panicked for a second, but then remembered that we had aired out the smell and could turn the bong into a coffee cup. Even if we couldn't, there was some charm about Boris that appealed to everyone but his dad. He could get out of nearly any situation with his flashy, foreign smile and deep, expressive eyes. It was almost like he was a hot blonde that always got out of speeding tickets or something.

It was a great day, quite possibly, one of our best yet, but so much for that! It all went down the toilet once I caught him a few days later, fist leaning against locker, looking down at Kotku, their faces close and smiling smittenly. I hate to say that his newfound happiness made me sick, but it did, it really did. She definitely wasn't my type, that's one thing for sure, but I could still see why he liked her a little...I just couldn't see why he liked her as much as he did. She was very emo-looking, from her edgy, leather & fishnet clothing to her dyed hair to her black nails. And even behind all of that gothic makeup, you could tell that she was cute, maybe even hot, but something about her tough, bitchy exterior made her come across as scary. She struck me as hostile.

Boris was already a little underweight, but Kotku was a borderline anorexic. She was the type of girl who would pierce her tongue with a safety pin just because she was bored, the girl who would carve dirty things into the bathroom stalls. In that sense, maybe she was the perfect match for Boris after all, but they argued and bickered like an old married couple that couldn't stand each other. Half the time, I wasn't entirely sure what their intentions were in the relationship. If he really loved her as much as he said he did, then why did he care about my opinion so much? I was sure that other guys didn't ask their friends about their girlfriends this much.

He seemed so fixated on the fact that she was 18, as if I was too immature to be on his level, dating an older girl and all. Well, I think we can all agree that I was a more level-headed person than the two of them combined! It seemed that everyone else, including myself, saw her for who she truly was, everyone except for Boris apparently! Most people saw her as a total slut who did pot and would make out with anyone. There were even rumors that her mom was a hooker! All of that may have been true, but I still wasn't about to slut-shame her. Boris was right, she had been through a lot. Not all of this was her fault, but that still didn't change the way I felt about it all...

First, he was busy on Friday night, then the whole weekend. And when he wasn't, he mentioned her all the goddamn time. Kotku this, Kotku that! Honestly, I'd never been more disgusted, but what bothered me most of all was how she just showed up out of the blue and slowly stole him away from me until he started to spend every waking second with her. It made me want to barf, the whole thing and it wasn't even just the hangovers talking in this case...

I found myself eating alone with Popper most evenings, watching movies by ourselves because Kotku had Boris wrapped around her little finger, so caught up in her neverending story of tragedy, as if his mutual fucked up life could somehow make hers just the littlest bit better. He knew her story by heart, using it to make excuses for her ALL. THE. TIME. She was like this captivating novel he couldn't ever put down. Normally, I wouldn't compare her to an object, but that's practically how Boris saw her, so I might as well too.

And I'll never forget the first time he brought her over to my house. The three of us all got stoned to the point that we practically became actual stone, human statues, unable to move hardly an inch from where we were. I felt more imprisoned than I did relaxed. Actually having her there only made the paranoia kick in even more. And the next thing I knew, they were fooling around...on my sofa! I did everything I could to tune them out with the television, but I was clearly the third wheel here...What did that mean for us? Had all of those drunken nights begun to disappear in one big meaningless haze? I didn't think so, but he acted as if everything we used to do was purely accidental, leaving me no other choice but to kiss it all goodbye.

The other thing about him was that he wouldn't rest until he could get an answer out of me, continuing to ask what I thought of her. At some point or another, I just gave him my honest opinion, that I thought she seemed desperate, but he adored her for every reason I didn't. He claimed he loved her even! I found that showing him I didn't care drove him even crazier. It was like he oddly needed my approval for some reason, when he was actually around, of course…

When he first started dating Kotku, there were many phases we went through. The first one was, as I said, when he constantly asked me what I thought about her, inserting in every sentence that came out of his mouth. Then there was the next one, where he started spending more time with her than me. Then he started to include me with them, which only made him feel more sorry for me. He suddenly felt the need to impose on my love life and set me up with someone, like he could only be satisfied if I was satisfied or taken.

Speaking of taken, Kotku had a boyfriend, and no, I don't mean Boris...His name was Mike McNatt, he was 26, owned a motorcycle, and cleaned pools for a living, your classic sleazeball. I don't think I'll ever be able to understand how Boris was okay with that, but to be perfectly honest, he wasn't. He was Taylor Swift in sheep's clothing- a total jealous freak. And I can't even put my finger on when their relationship began in the first place. It was all one murky progression to doomsday.

Anyway, but that night, after the three of us had hung out, he not only asked me what my thoughts were, but even tried to convince me to come to Kotku's with him and bring someone. He kept pressing me, trying to get me to bring this hot, swimmer girl from our school, Hadley, and when I wouldn't agree to it, he nearly asked her for me! Then he got all weird when I suggested she wouldn't want to come, like anyone having something against Kotku was a crime! And I'll be honest, Hadley wasn't hard on the eyes and he was right, she was nice to me in Civics, but I had no interest in going out with her. In fact, I had no interest in going out with anyone! I just wanted my best friend back...

I just thought that Boris could do better instead of stooping so low, lower than him...Kotku just wasn't a good person or influence on him at all, but Boris and I were always rubbing off on each other in ways that both made us both better and worse. That's what was missing...

I would never say this to him, but Kotku was pretty much straight up white trash. No, not the kind that live out in the countryside and own AK-47s. The kind that lived in sketchy apartment complexes and got into vicious fistfights with other girls just because they gave them a "weird look." She always messed around with the wrong people and to be quite honest, I didn't like who she was turning Boris into. He started throwing around the n-word like it didn't mean anything when he knew that it did. He worshipped the ground that she walked on and for what? What did she ever do for him other than fuck up his life and my own? I didn't like the person he was when he was around her and I certainly didn't like the person he was becoming, but still, this bothered me so, in a way that told me of my true feelings.

I grew increasingly depressed. My grief was still fresh and now finding itself in other ways...I felt like I was losing my best friend! I had always wrestled with the question of Boris and myself, but now more than ever. I didn't know what I was losing until I had actually begun to. Boris had stolen a lot of things from me...I just never expected something or someone to steal him...So, I got stoned alone, and I kicked myself for it, getting high off of her weed. That was the only good coming from his relationship with her, the fact that I could get high from it. Would you just listen to the miserable reality of that?

I did countless things to pass the time. I watched adult movies and porn channels, ones he had shown me before we first- before we had- I couldn't even think about it...It just made me sadder. I read boring-ass books that just seemed to drag on and on and never end, tagged along with Hadley to non-drinking, swim-team parties, and in contrast, went to chaperoneless, drinking-drug parties just to shake things up. I'd ride the bus home at the crack of dawn, unstable, clinging onto the seats for balance in fear of collapsing. Sometimes, I didn't know who I hated more- who Boris was becoming, who I was becoming, or the filthy wench herself…

Boris might have been a piece of trash sometimes, but he taught me how to take advantage of my crappy life, because while it was crappy, I was better off than some, some being him. I was so lost without him, Boris: total hot mess in every way and yet someone who never failed to make me smile on the worst of days. He was moody and unpredictable, yet a creature of habit at the same time, always stealing my belongings and adopting them as his own. He was inclusive and nurturing; he had a way of making you feel like you were a part of something special. Boris, a worn-out doll with loose button eyes, the wonderful, sloppy, careless fool of him, heavy drinker that he was, that was the one I missed most. He was my world.

Tired of the constant disappointment that was my life then, my mind visited a place I didn't think it would...

*dials phone, rings*

*other line picks up*

"Hello?"

"Hey Arabelle, it's me-"

"Theo! You called!"

To be continued...


	6. JACKPOTter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's very long, a little dialogue-heavy, and the title won't make sense until later, but I think you guys are going to really like it. Just give it a chance and hang tight during this weird time in their relationship. We all know they're actually crazy about each other, Boris and Theo.

It was the perfect plan. Accepting Boris' suggestion of a girlfriend was just like taking the bait, no...I had to think bigger. This was more personal. He had pushed me to ask her out, probably forgotten about her by now. It was time to punch back, catch him off guard! But oddly enough, my intentions weren't only about him this time. I had actually felt something with Arabelle and I knew that she was going to make my life better in other ways. Maybe she could give me the balance and stability I so badly needed and I could give her the love and affection that I didn't know what to do with. It was only a plus if it made Boris jealous in the process.

I liked him. I knew that now. Maybe I sound like a crazy person and maybe I am, but I'm not dumb enough to know what I lost. It's not every day that you meet someone like Boris and my intentions might have been questionable, but either way, I just needed to feel something, whether it was getting over Boris and falling for someone new or finding someone to distract me from those feelings. I was willing to try anything. Getting high just wasn't doing it for me anymore. It was no fun without him. Still though, a part of me was curious if this thing with Arabelle could actually turn into something. Our first phone call went a little something like this:

"Hello?"

"Hey Arabelle, it's me-"

"Theo! You called!"

"I called!" I repeated. "I missed you and was...hoping to see you again."

"Oh yeah?" she asked. "I missed you too. For now, your jacket's been keeping me company."

"*laughs* I'm glad...How've you been?"

"I've been good! I've done a lot of painting lately."

"Oh, you paint?" I asked.

"Sorta. I dabble," she humbly said.

"Nice! I love art."

"Me too. I also like to bake occasionally. What about you?"

"Read & write usually."

"How very bookish!" she teased.

"*laughs* It passes the time."

"So...You were hoping to see me again?"

I liked her already, how she was putting me to the test. She could be so subtle and smooth, dropping hints here and there, and yet so upfront and forward at other times. She could handle herself so well, but it was almost like you never knew if she was going to make the first move or whether she expected you to.

"That's right! Well, it's more than just that...Um, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go out with me too."

"*laughs* Theo, I'd love to."

"Great! What's your schedule like right now?"

"I'm free this weekend...Oh, and Friday too! Does that work for you?"

"Perfect. Why don't we do something Friday night?"

"Sure! What would we do?"

"Well, I'd pick you up if I had a car, but what do you say we meet downtown at the pizzeria and go from there? Maybe we could get some fro-yo and walk around for a bit after, see what's around..."

"That sounds lovely! Can't wait," she said. "Shall we say...6:00?"

"I'll be there," I said.

"I look forward to it. See you then, Theo."

"Bye Arabelle."

*hangs up*

Friday came around the corner quicker than I thought it would. Of course, me being me, I got way too into my head about all of this. This was my first date...ever, and I wanted it to be perfect. I was a bit of a romantic, the sweet sensitive type I guess you'd say...Well, could be. When I was with Boris, I was a little more easygoing, not as anal and particular about everything. I actually felt kind of bad because he wanted to do something that day.

"Hey, Potter," he said, plopping beside me on the bus.

"Hi," I said, wondering why he addressed me as he did.

"You wunna do something ayfter school? Kotku bailed on me today."

"Can't sorry...Got a date tonight."

"Yeah, right," he said, laughing.

I glared.

"Oh, you're serious! No way, geet outta here!" he said, punching my shoulder. "Well, who ees et? Who's the lucky girl? *gasps* Ees et Hadley? Kotku's been saying that you've gone to a cahple of the swim team parties with her lately."

"No, actually...It's Arabelle."

"Arabelle? That girl from the park?! Oh, Potter, thayse great! Thayse acksholey pretty big deal, I'm kind of surprised you didn't tail me…"

"Well, it's not like we hang out much these days."

"True, true...Are you nervous?"

"Completely."

"Aww, don't be! You sure you don't wunt me to hailp you geet ready?"

"No, that's okay. This is something I've got to do on my own, but thanks...really!"

"Anytime, Potter. Well, I weesh you the baste ove luck on your special night. Let me know how it goes."

"I will," I said. "Bye, Boris."

"Bye," he said softly.

It was hard to say no to him like that, but I knew it was what was best. Didn't want to screw up any chance I might have with Arabelle over a boy who wasn't even available to be my best friend, let alone anything else...Why treat him any differently than he had treated me? But fuck- I still missed him...

I knew not to go over the top, so I didn't get her roses or anything like that, but I was planning on taking her to the bookstore at least. And I spent way too long picking out the right outfit, Xandra even catching me while I was still ironing my shirt.

"What are you doing? Going on a date or something?" she asked, laughing.

"As a matter of fact, *sets iron down* I am."

"Well, don't try too hard. You'll make a fool of yourself," she said, sipping her wine.

"Has anyone ever told you that you give the best advice?" I asked, in a cheeky, sarcastic tone.

"Here, let me straighten your collar, smug-ass," she said. "There. Now you look very handsome."

"Thanks."

She wasn't my mom, not even close, and she didn't want to be either, but sometimes we shared a good moment or two. We kind of had a sibling-like relationship, oddly.

"*sighs* Want me to drive you to your stupid date?"

"Really?" I asked.

"Well, you went through the trouble of ironing your shirt for her, hate for the bus to get it dirty."

"Thanks, Xandra. That's kind of you."

"Don't get all sentimental on me, kid. I'm just on the way to work."

"Yeah, okay," I said with a smile.

And pulling up to the street corner, there she was- wearing this scoop neck, lilac, floral dress with my jacket over top of it and a handbag dangling off her shoulder. She was beautiful, truly, not necessarily in the drop-dead gorgeous way, but as if she didn't have to be anything for anyone. She was just Arabelle, natural, charming- breathtaking.

"So…What do you think?" she asked, her hands shrugging in my jacket pockets, spinning around like a princess.

"Wow..." I said. "You look so good in it, I almost don't want you to give it back!"

*blushes and smiles*

Not only was she cute, but she was even a little shy at first, just like me, yet flirtatious in a way that brought her out of her shell entirely. She towered over me a little like Boris, but not quite as much. Still though, knowing how most girls felt about dating shorter guys, I worried that this would end prematurely, that maybe she would change her mind because of my height. I mean, I wasn't even quite 5 feet, but she didn't seem to mind. I think she even thought that it was kind of cute.

"So...Shall we?" she asked, holding her hand out.

"We shall," I said, grabbing it.

Sitting down at a table, we each divided and conquered with the menus.

"What looks good to you?" I asked.

"Okay, is pineapple on pizza totally gross or oddly delicious? Because I kind of love it."

"I think it's brilliant and criminally underrated," I said. "Let's get that."

"Okay, but you're not going to do that guy thing where you pay for the whole meal, right? Because I hate that."

"*laughs* Alright, you caught me. I was going to, but I won't anymore. We can split the bill."

"Good. Glad that we cleared the air," she said.

And as we waited, I said, dramatically and mysteriously:

"So, Arabelle."

"So, Theo," she said, mimicking me exactly.

"Tell me, what are your hopes and dreams?"

"*chuckles* I don't know, I guess I'm still exploring my options...I love animals and I love art! Not sure which dream I should chase, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that. Well, I haven't seen you paint yet, but you sure are good with animals from what I've seen."

"Yeah, good at seducing them apparently," she joked, referring to my dog's humping problem.

"*laughs hard, turns serious* Well, I can see why Popper would be into a pretty girl like you."

"*bites lip* Thank you."

"Anytime," I said.

"You know, I'm surprised you still call me Arabelle."

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"I don't know...Most people just take the easy route and call me Bella for short."

"Well, I guess I don't like simple. Why call you something basic like Bella? Arabelle's too unique not to be used."

"You're old fashioned," she said, observantly.

"Yeah, well, what can I say, I-"

"You didn't let me finish...I like it."

"Oh...Thanks," I said, shyly smiling.

"You *encircles with breadstick* need to lighten up, Theo," she said, taking a bite out of the tip.

"*sighs* So I've been told…"

It was weird, being called Theo instead of Potter. It was almost hard to get used to, even though Theo was already a nickname and everyone called me that other than Boris.

"What about you though? What's your calling?" she asked, leaning toward me, her elbow on the table.

"Not sure yet. I like antiques, I like art, history, English...Basically anything old."

"Seems like a fair assessment to me," she said. "You seem like a pretty intellectual guy from what I can tell," she said, looking directly at me while sipping from her straw.

"Well, I don't know about that...My friend, the one you met...we don't really...do that kind of stuff, reading and all of that."

"What do you do then?"

"Oh, um, we just...get high...sometimes," I said, scratching my head.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"*laughs* I guess I am."

"You need to hook me up..."

"And corrupt someone as put together as you? Nah...I don't think so."

"I'm no angel," she said.

"You sure about that?" I asked.

"Dammit, Theo! Stop being so cute..." she said, angrily jabbing the table with a fork and knife in each hand.

I laughed, finding her anger more endearing and adorable than threatening.

And once our food finally arrived, we got into the real stuff.

"So, what party do you support?" she asked.

"You mean-"

"Politics. Let's just get it out of the way. Ready? On three: 1, 2, 3!"

"Democrat," we said in unison.

"Nice," she said. "I was a little skeptical at first because...I don't know, you just always dress so nicely like you have a lot of money and you know how Republicans are with their money. But then again, there are some rich Democrats out there too."

"Pff, money? I don't have a lot of money at all. I mean, I'm not poor, but I'm not rich either. Most of my clothes...they're from New York."

"So the truth comes out! You're a New Yorker!"

"*laughs* Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"I was hoping we'd get to that, where you moved here from."

"What do you want to know?" I asked.

"Well, I've never been before...Is it just like the movies? Gangsters, drug dealers, shopaholics, artists, businessmen, tourists?"

"*laughs* To some extent, yes, but there's a lot more to it, beyond the stereotypes."

"Do you miss it?"

"All the time, but this place has kind of grown on me a bit. It's all bittersweet. I mean, I wouldn't have met Boris if I hadn't moved here."

"Boris? Is that the friend I waved to at the park?"

"Yeah, he's my best friend, or was, at least…" I said.

"Oh no, what happened?" she asked, putting her hand on top of mine.

"Nothing really, we just haven't spent as much time together lately. He got a girlfriend who's kind of been sucking up all of his time."

"Well, that sucks! I'm sorry…"

"Yeah, kinda does. *sighs* But...I'm just glad to be spending my evening with you and not getting stoned by myself or hanging around at some party I don't want to be at."

"*smiles* You know I actually went through the same thing with my old best friend."

"Seriously?"

"Oh yeah! And worst of all, it was someone I liked too!"

"She really did you dirty, huh?"

"Apparently so!"

"*scoffs* Some friend…" I said.

"Yeah, for real."

"What are your current best friends like though? You know, the ones that didn't betray you?"

"*laughs* I don't really have many friends at the moment honestly. I'm kind of quiet in school."

"Why?"

"I don't know, I'm still trying to figure that out myself. That's why I took a chance with you because I thought it would be good for me to put myself out there, plus I just thought you were adorable..."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she said, biting her lip again. "Is that okay?"

"Is that okay? Of course, it's okay...You're totally saving my evening, remember?"

"Right! Good, good..." she said, almost relieved.

"It's actually nice knowing I'm not the only one."

"Well, you're new. If you had come at the same time as the rest of us, I'm sure you'd be wildly popular!"  
"I doubt it. High school can be so isolating sometimes...I've just never been one to fit in."

"Boy, don't I know it!" she said, laughing. "The isolating thing, that is..."

"I knew what you meant," I said, winking, then saying:

"So let me guess…Extroverted but bashful?"

"Bingo!" she said.

Boris used to say that...

"And let's see...Friendly but introverted?"

"You got it!" I said.

"*laughs* Well, I would ask you if you had any pets, but I'm fortunate to have already met your furry friend!" she said.

I laughed.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Eh, at least something good came from it," she said, smiling.

I smiled back.

"Well, speaking of pets...Got any pet peeves?" I asked.

"Very smooth…" she said, smiling. "Um...Gosh, It'd have to be...people who don't use turn signals."

"Oh my god, that's the worst! Just think about how many people have caused accidents by hopping into a lane without letting the person behind them know that they're coming!"

"Exactly! Thank you!" she said. "What about you?"

"I have a few...People who repeatedly hit the elevator button, as if that'll make the elevator arrive sooner and...slow walkers."

She laughed...I wasn't expecting her to.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh at you, it's just *laughs* that's the most New York thing I've ever heard."

"Okay, maybe you're right," I said, laughing with her.

"But hey, I've got another one for you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Hit me!"

"Two words: Chain mail."

"Oh my god, YES! It's so stupid and no one actually likes it, but everyone feels obligated to forward or repost it anyway."

"Exactly!"

"Ooh, I've got two more."

"Give me your worst, Decker," she said with a smile.

"When people ask if they can have some of your food as they make a grab for it or when they say 'no offense' as if it downplays anything insulting they say."

"100% with you on that."

And after splitting the bill, I said:

"Well, do you think you're too full for fro-yo?"

"I think I still have some room…" she said with a smile.

"Great."

"Wait up," she said, linking her arm with mine.

"Sorry…*laughs* You know how fast we New Yorkers can be."

"You're so street…" she said jokingly, in a lovestruck, ditzy way that made me laugh.

Once we walked into the yogurt shop, I asked:

"Will you at least let me pay for dessert?"

"You're a real gentleman, you know that?" she said.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes. Thank you, Theo," she said, stacking her hands on my shoulder and her chin atop of those.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Raspberry please," she whispered in my ear.

"Nice," I said. "I think I'm going to get cappuccino."

"Yum!"

And after going over to the machines and loading our bowls with toppings, we went over to the cashier to weigh them before we paid. She had put a lot of fruit in hers while I put various chocolates and things. Then we left and walked down the streets, spoons in our mouths.

"So when's your birthday? Oh, wait, no, don't tell me! Is it July?"

"How'd you know?!" I asked.

"Because I'm freakishly good at guessing zodiac signs and you strike me as a Cancer…"

"I am! Wow, *laughs* that's insane! Must be your hidden talent or something…*laughs* What uh...what are you then? Your sign?"

"I was born in October, so Libra."

"I see that…" I said, nodding with a smile.

"You do?"

"Yeah! I mean, you just have this way about you that's so calming and harmonious. I know that Libras are all about balance and symmetry and they love art and intellectualism like you do. Makes sense."

"Oh, well, thank you! That's a big compliment, but I'm not surprised, Mr. Cancer. I know how sweet you guys can be...so compassionate and genuine...totally you."

"Thanks," I said.

"You know, our signs aren't very compatible...Kinda sucks."

"Well, you don't really believe in that stuff, do you?"

"No, not exactly, but I still find it interesting. It's like one of life's curiosities. There's some beauty to it."

I gave her a look.

"Well...A little evil and trickery too, but still."

"Yeah, tell me about it! Everyone here is obsessed with tarot card readings and horoscopes and shit, wasting so much money on hearing about their futures instead of actually investing in them."

"Ain't that the truth!" she said.

"*laughs* What about religion though? Are you religious?" I asked.

"Well, I'm Jewish. Not crazy religious, but we go to temple every now and then, me and my family."

"No, I mean, are you religious?"

"Oh, *smiles* well, I guess...a little, yeah. What about you?"

"Absolutely, but not in the church-going way. I mean, I see god in the little things, you know? Life and its...curiosities!"

"I like that…Tell me more."

"Okay, well, I guess...I don't know, it's silly…"

"No, it's not! C'mon," she said, rubbing my arm.

"Well...Have you ever just seen this painting and wondered how something could be so perfectly imperfect?"

"Yes! All the time!"

"It's those moments where I'm reminded of god's presence, how every stroke is apart of something greater, just like us."

"That's...beautiful."

"So are you."

*blushes*

"Hey, um, I heard there's this gallery hop going on down the street? Interested?" she asked.

"Uh...I think I'll have to pass on that one...Sorry."

"I thought you said you loved art!"

"I do, but it's just- *sighs* Okay, normally I wouldn't talk about this on the first date, but since it's come up *sighs* The reason I moved here was to live with my dad and the reason I'm living my dad now is because- My mom was killed in a museum bombing, so...I guess I'm still not ready to...get back in the water yet."

"Oh, Theo...I had no idea! I'm so so sorry…" she said, grabbing my hand and rubbing it with her thumb.

"It's okay..."

"Well, it's not, but you're a good sport. No one deserves to lose a parent that way, especially not you."

"Thank you."

"Of course. I know how it feels to lose someone you love...I lost my aunt. She died in a house fire...and my uncle too."

"God, I didn't realize...That must've been really hard."

"It was. It was very unexpected, but I can't imagine what it must've been like to be there with them and be the only one that made it out."

"How did you know? That I was there with her?"

"Why else would you be skeptical to go to another art exhibit if you hadn't been there when it happened?"

"I guess you're right...You're a smart cookie, Arabelle, and very intuitive too."

"Eh, I just have a good sense of people I think."

"You do," I said.

"I bet you're glad to be living with your dad though, huh?"

"Well, yes and no...He's uh, he's an alcoholic and his trampy girlfriend lives with us too, so it's not all rainbows and sunshine."

"Jesus…" she said. "You sure put up with a lot of shit, Decker."

"I'm curious, how'd you know my last name?"

"I may have asked around a bit, see what I could find out about you..."

"Oh, I see."

"Well, you don't have any social media, how else was I supposed to innocently stalk you?"

"*laughs* I guess you have a point."

"I did hear about the rumors, I just wasn't sure if they were true."

"Well, I appreciate you waiting to hear my side of the story before you decided what to think of it."

"Of course!" she said.

"What about your parents though? What are they like?"

"They're artists...Well, really my dad's a professor of art history and my mom's a model, but the reason I say they're artists is that my mom was kind of my dad's muse back when he was an art student. That's kind of their grand love story. Anyway, they're really hipstery and free-spirited."

"You take after both of them it seems."

"*laughs* And how would you know, Stranger?"

"Because, you have your dad's talent and your mom's beauty, duh!"

She looked at me, pressing her lips in a rosy-cheeked smile.

"You haven't even seen my art yet...or my mom!

"Well, I'm just trying to butter you up so when the time comes, you'll let me see some of it...and meet your parents."

"You think you're going to stick around that long?"

"Do you think I will?"

"I sure hope so..." she said.

"*smiles* Back to your parents though...Are you closer to your mom or dad?"

"I don't know...I guess both. I'm an only child, so I'm equally close to them in different ways."

"Really? Me too! Well, about the only child part. I was definitely closer with my mom…"

"Look at us, so much in common…"

"It appears so."

"Let's see what else there is…What are your favorite movies?"

"Oh, that's so hard...Well, I love old, classic movies-"

"Of course you do!" she said.

"But more recent-wise, I'd have to say Ruby Sparks."

"Never seen that one. What's it about?"

"It's about this guy named Calvin who's a writer and writes about the girl of his dreams only to find that she exists and he created her."

"Oh my god, that sounds like the coolest movie ever!"

"It's pretty great, but the book's even better."

"Oh, I bet!"

"Well, what do you like?"

"Probably anything Wes Anderson's ever made. I really like his movie Moonrise Kingdom."

"Where have you been all my life? I love Wes Anderson!"

"He's fantastic! I love the nostalgia and art behind his films...It's stunning."

"Bet your parents got you into that, huh?"

"You know it!" she said, laughing.

"Well, what about books? Have any favorites?"

"You know, I'm not sure if I could pick...I have so many! Do you though? Have a favorite?"

"Lord of the Rings. Tolkien's my favorite author."

"You're going to hate me, but...I've never read them. I've seen a few of the movies, but I should really give it a try."

"If you do, tell me what you think, okay?"

"Absolutely. I will do it."

"Hey, why don't we stop by the book shop? Look around a bit?"

"This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" she asked.

"I'm a book worm, it's only natural."

She laughed.

"C'mon, let's go," she said with a smile.

We walked down the aisles, scanning book stems and flipping through anything that caught our eye. We even did that thing in every rom-com you've ever seen where you hold up records with faces in front of your own.

"What's your favorite type of music?" she asked.

"I really like Thelonious Monk & The Velvet Underground. They were my mom's favorites and Boris and I listen to them a lot too," I said.

"I'm definitely familiar with The Velvet Underground, great band, but who's Thelonious Monk now?"

"A jazz pianist."

"Oh, how neat!" she said. "Well, I like Regina Spektor and Dodie. You ever heard of their stuff before?"

"Regina Spektor, sure, but not Dodie."

"Here, I'll play you a little something. Do you mind?"

"Not at all…"

And she pulled her phone out from her purse, popping an earbud in my ear.

"It's nice! I can totally see you listening to that."

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"I don't know, you just give me indie vibes I guess."

"*smiles* Yeah, I like Tessa Violet and Mree too. Here, I'll play you one more."

"Okay. What's it called?"

"Laundry Bin."

*laughs*

"Wow, this is beautiful...I love her voice, and the piano."

"I do too. Mree's the best," she said. "I knew you'd have good taste…"

And then I did something stupid, something really stupid that quite possibly could've ruined this whole thing we had going- I stole a book for her.

"Run!" I said.

"Why?" she asked, laughing and at the same time, scared.

"Because...I swiped you a little something," I said, holding up The Fellowship of the Ring.

"*gasps* Theodore Decker! Are you out of your mind?"

"What do you take me for? A thief?"

"I'm starting to," she said, laughing.

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing. I've done this before."

"Really? Is this something you often do?"

"No, not a lot...Just sometimes."

"Is this a habit you picked up from New York?" she asked, laughing.

"No, my friend Boris actually. He's always stealing shit. I try to talk him out of it, but at this point, I've kind of just accepted that that's who he is."

She laughed.

"You're not going to keep it, are you?" I asked, disappointed.

"Oh, I don't know, Theo...I don't know if I can…"

"I'm the only one that would get in trouble, you know."

"Yes, but-"

"But what?"

"Oh fuck it! I'm keeping it," she said.

I laughed, not expecting her curse like a sailor.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," she said, nodding with confidence in her decision. "It's actually pretty romantic."

"I was hoping you'd say that," I said. "I mean, I knew if I bought it for you, you'd just resent me because I already bought us the fro-yo, so I figured this was my only other option other than not actually buying it."

"You're not wrong about that," she said, laughing. "Thank you."

"No problem," I said.

"Woo! I am so out of breath," she said.

"Me too," I said, laughing.

*laughs more*

"How far do you live from here?" I asked.

"Just down the street, not too far."

"Can I walk you home?"

"Yeah, sure, that'd be great, thanks."

A few minutes later, we had arrived at her apartment.

"Well, this is me!"

"It's...nice."

"It's shit, but so are most of the houses around here, so I've gotten used to it."

*laughs*

"That was the most fun I've had in a long time. Thanks for a lovely evening, Theo." she said, sliding my coat back on me, then abruptly kissing my cheek.

*blushes*

"I had a great time. Goodnight, Arabelle."

"Goodnight...Book Thief," she said, cracking a smile.

I smiled back, my first date, a success.

Before I got myself into all of this with Arabelle, my dad was actually being really nice to me. We spent a lot of quality time together, going out to dinner at a nice restaurant at least once a week. I never bought that story that he was trying to sell though, that my mother had prompted his affair because of the way she made him feel, like he was alone. Bullshit. He put it on himself, the entire thing. He was the alcoholic and she was the functioning adult, but whatever. I think I finally understood how he had felt all of those years, claiming that there wasn't much room for the three of us, me, him, and my mom. It was a statement that I usually rolled my eyes at, but now it was true for me, with Kotku and Boris and I think he knew that. I think he didn't want me to feel left behind.

Sometimes he even invited Boris to tag along too, which was an offer he couldn't turn down. There were some things even Kotku couldn't change about him and I felt comfort in knowing that. But oddly, I kind of enjoyed the time with my dad alone, getting to know him better. Even Boris himself was constantly inviting me places, trying to save what fragments of our relationship we had left. Sometimes it was painful, but I was glad just to have any time with him at all.

One outing that the three of us, me, my dad, and Boris went on was to a casino nearby. I was skeptical of going at first, given my dad's drinking and gambling problem. I'm honestly surprised that he hadn't gotten banned yet, but oh, that was coming...I knew it was a bad idea to mix my father's impulsivity with Boris'.

"Alright, boys...What shall we hit first?" he said, rubbing his hands together like a Disney villain.

"Definitely one ove the card games. They're the easiest to cheat at," said Boris.

Boris loved my dad and my dad loved Boris. He called us his second family and my dad thought of him as one of his own. It was touching until it became all about them. But still, Boris and I managed to have our fun...until Kotku came up for the 40 millionth time.

It didn't take long for me to realize how scarily jealous Boris was of Mike, Kotku's 26 year-old boyfriend. I had noticed back in school how precisely he knew her schedule. He knew it by heart, always racing to find her after class in case she was cheating. Relationships were supposed to be built on trust, and yet, he had none when it came to her. But he knew what he was getting into.

Surprisingly though, Mike was now mysteriously out of the picture. I'm not saying Boris killed him, he's not a killer, but I wouldn't be surprised if he threatened him or something. Now Tyler Olowska was the problem…

He had asked me to find out about him and where he lived a while back after having caught Kotku flirting with him. When she wouldn't answer his calls, he was always afraid that she was with Tyler. I tried to put him at ease, telling him that she was probably just selling him some weed...he was a stoner after all! But of course, Boris looked further into the signs, noticing how she never wanted him to stay over anymore, always having stuff to do and never wearing the necklace he gave her, the one I helped him shoplift by distracting the store clerk with questions about what Dad and I ought to get Mom for her birthday.

"So, got any inside information for me, Potter?" he asked, as we sat on the sidelines of my dad's blackjack game.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Olowksa. Got hees location yet?"

"No, I didn't look."

"Oh c'mon! Wot kind ove friend are you?"

"A pretty damn good one! I'm trying to keep you out of trouble and save your questionable relationship."

"Wot's that supposed to mean, Potter?"

"You know exactly what it means, Boris. Don't act like you don't."

"Fine. We're on the rocks. Eet's not perfect. Eet nayver woz, but I'm not looking for perfect."

"I never said you were!"

"Speaking of that, how'd et go weeth Mees Perfect?"

"Who?"

"Doge park girl."

"Oh, Arabelle? It was fine, nothing special…"

"Liar!" he said.

"Are you calling my bluff?"

"Damn right," he said.

"Okay, fine. It was...wonderful. She's wonderful."

"Yeah, well, wot do you like about her?"

"Arabelle's just so...Arabelle. She has the best sense of humor and is just so different and confident and like her own person, you know? She's just so lovely."

"Sounds like et. You kiss her yet?" he asked, almost bored and yet so interested.

"Yeah, on our second date at the movies. It was nice…" I said, as if in a trance.

"Deed you at least pretend to sneeze or yawn to poot your arm around her and squeeze her ti-"

"No, I didn't do that, pig!"

"Fine, your loss. Wot movie deed you see?"

"La La Land."

"Chick flick musical, huh?"

"It was actually pretty good, you'd be surprised..."

"I've seen the ads, not my cup ove tea."

"You know, on the first date, I kind of stole her something."

"I thought that woz our thing…."

"It wasn't much, just a book from the store."

"A book? Paperback or hardback?"

"Does it matter?" I asked, laughing.

"Oh, eet matters, Potter," I said.

"Hardback. It's the best kind and it lasts the longest."

"Eet's oleso the most expensive...Wow, you really must like her."

"Yeah, I'm starting to."

"How do you think she'd feel about you being here...weeth me?"

"Fine," I said, weirded out. "She knows about you, you know that."

"But she doesn't know about wot we've done together, does she?"

"Does Kotku?"

"Fair enough," he said.

I put him right in his place.

"She even asked me not to pay for dinner. She likes to split the bill."

"She sounds like a keeper. You're lucky, Potter...Kotku, she's nothing but a gold deeger. Sometimes I don't even think she wants me there, that desperate hoe…"

"Thought you said loved her…" I said.

"I do."

"Okay, I officially don't get your relationship," I said.

He laughed.

He had gotten so worked up about how Tyler had started calling her Kotku and tousled her hair, trying to egg me on and get a rise out of me when it came to her. And ever since she threw herself at Tyler at school, trying to earn his sympathy, her cheeks wet with tears, Boris had started namecalling and trash-talking her any chance he got.

Then I noticed she was going around school with a fat lip, not only acting like nothing had happened and everything was normal again, but even telling people that she just got hit by a car door as if it was some humorous, impressive party story. When I asked him if he did that, he claimed that he didn't want to, but she made him, then claiming that I was jealous of her, and in some ways, I'll admit, I was. I wanted what she had, even still, but I would never tell him that. I wouldn't even tell myself that, but at the same time, I despised her, and again, I didn't want to be with him if it meant him acting like this. Sometimes I intensely cared about their relationship, and other times, I didn't at all.

The whole time, when Boris and I weren't having our little tiffs, my dad was busy trying to win it all, hitting the slot machines, the wheels, Poker, everything! But when he started losing our money, I knew we had to intervene. Luckily, I was pretty good at doing the math in my head and keeping my eyes on the cards, while Boris had a natural talent of cheating without getting caught when things got too hard. What I'm trying to say is...we assisted him.

Boris and I felt like we had completely outsmarted these fools, both the dealers and the other players. We looked at each other with knowing smiles and an appetite for chaos, chasing each other across the carpeted floors like it was any other day. We were back to our usual crackhead selves, Boris even finding ways to obtain alcohol. I swear to god, sometimes he was like Swiper from Dora when it came to the stuff.

"How the fuck did you- Never mind…" I said, taking a sip from his martini.

"*laughs* You know, thees ees nice! We haven't hung out in a whyull…"

"And who's fault is that?" I asked, losing my cool.

"*shrugs, crosses arms* Eef you've got something to say, Potter, just spit et out oleready!"

"*sighs* Fine, I will! You and Kotku are always together. You're inseparable! And I can't fucking breathe…"

"We invite you to things ole the time! You're the one who doesn't wunt to go!"

"You don't get it, Boris! I don't want to hang out with her...I want to hang out with you. Just you!"

"I geet that, but you've got a girlfriend now too, so don't go around acting like you're not doing the same thing, Potter…"

"But I'm not! The only time I haven't been able to hang out with you was on our first date. Every other time, you just already happened to be hanging out with Kotku. And besides...she's not my girlfriend, not yet anyway..."

"Fine, maybe you're right. I've been a bayd friend, but you nayver even aysk to hang out anymore."

"And why do you think that is, Boris?"

"Okay, I get it. You don't like her. You've made that perfectly clear. Can we move on now?"

"Gladly."

"Actually, tail you wot: Why don't you, me, Kotku, and your little princess go on a double date"

"Oh...Hmm, I don't-don't know if that's such a great idea, Boris."

"Why not? Potter, eet's time we put this whole thing behind ose, eesn't eet?"

"I guess…It's just a little weird."

"Wot's weird about et? Just two friends and their girlfriends hayving a littull fun!"

"That's just it," I said. "That's what's weird."

"Oh, please, Potter? Eet would mean so much."

*contemplates*

"Fine. It's a date!" I said.

"Good. Saturday, 5:30. Skating rink. Be there, byotch."

"Great."

"Great."

I'd never wanted him more than I did in that moment. There was this tension that crept into the room like a snake, rattling and shaking up our dynamic completely. But what was I thinking? What was I doing? Arabelle was special. Was it worth ruining what we had? Never mind that now. Appears we had another problem on our hands...

"I know what this looks like," my dad said to the officer. "But I can assure you, it's not what you think."

*silence*

"Okay, maybe it is what you think. They helped me win the game, and blame me for letting that happen, but you don't understand...You see my son and I, we lost my ex-"

"Dad, don't!" I said firmly.

"We recently lost my ex-wife in a museum bombing...Devastating accident. Nearly lost Theo with her too…*sniffles* I just- I'm so hurt and confused and I guess we just wanted to blow off some steam together."

"And what about him?" the officer asked, pointing to Boris.

"Oh, Boris? Well, he's our foreign exchange student. Isn't that right, Boris?"

He looked at me, as if to ask for permission to add to his web of lies. I gave up, nodding. I was okay with whatever would get us out of this situation the fastest at this point. My dad had already humiliated me in using my mother as a sob story. How much worse could it get?

"Tak," he responded, nodding, which apparently meant yes in Polish and Ukrainian.

Then he started speaking in broken English, talking about how kind "Mr. Decker" and I had been to him, especially after what "happened" and how we were like his second family. Well, at least that part was true...And he went on and on about me and our friendship, staring at me lustfully as he spoke. With him, it was hard to know what part was acting and what part was heartfelt. Now it was my turn.

"Is this true?" the officer asked me.

"Yes, *sighs* it's true. My mom and I lived together back in New York. We were in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She walked away to go look at The Anatomy Lesson and that was the last time I saw her," I said, recounting the same story I'd told countless police officers like him.

At least I told the truth, but then I realized I had to sell it.

"Boris has been keeping us such good company since then. I may have lost my mother, but at least I gained a brother!" I said, throwing my arm around him and slapping his back.

I was disgusted with myself, but I think a part of me meant it too and he smiled.

"Alright. You guys are free to go," the officer said.

"Really?" asked my dad.

"Yeah, but I'm afraid it's because you're banned."

"Officer, I think you may have made a mistake here…"

"No, I don't believe I have. Stop using your son and his friend as your scapegoats and start taking some responsibility here. You're lucky I didn't charge you, Larry."

"How do you know my name?"

"*laughs* You're practically famous around the casino industry here!"

*smiles*

"*frowns* It's not something to be proud of."

"I understand, Officer. Well, thanks anyway. Have a nice day."

"Aht, not so fast. Hand it over," he said, referring to the money.

"*nervously laughs* Right, sorry…"

Exiting through the revolving doors, "Well, that went well, don't you think, boys?" my dad continued.

"Bravo!" I said clapping. "You know, you really are a great actor!"

"Alright, that's enough…" he said.

"No really! It was an outstanding performance, but you know what would've made it better? If you had traded mom's earrings for poker chips...Oh wait, that's right! You already did."

"I said that's enough!" he said, twisting my wrist aggressively.

Boris looked down at his shoes, reminded of his own father.

"Oh go fuck yourself!" I said to my dad, slamming the car door behind me, something that would put me in the doghouse for weeks.

On the way back, I remained silent throughout, not a peep out of me. Boris started to get worried that I was mad at him. Once we arrived at his house, however, I wanted to walk him back, but my dad ordered me to stay in the car. I flipped him off and got out anyway.

"Look, Potter, I understand eef you nayver wunt to tawk to me again, but-"

"What? I'm not mad at you, Boris...I mean, I was, before, when we were fighting, but not because of what just happened."

"I know, but I'm just sorry. And I'm sorry that your dad's such an asshole."

"Glad we can finally agree on something," I said with a smile.

He patted me on the back and said:

"Well, I look forward to our date…"

Our date.

"With the girls," he continued.

"Right, yeah, me too," I said, hands in my pockets.

"Take it easy, Potter," he said, then kissing the spot on my cheek where my dad had hit me.

He kissed my cheek, just like her, leaving me blushing like a fool...Fuck.


	7. See You L8er, Sk8er

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I kinda just unnecessarily took my time with this one, but I guess I've been slower with it because I wasn't sure if the characters were overreacting and being too dramatic. Lol, anyway, guess we'll find out! Let me know what you think :)

My movie date with Arabelle was nothing short of amazing. When things got cute with Mia and Sebastian, things, in turn, got cute with us too, as we held hands throughout the duration of the movie. There were definitely some scenes where I couldn't concentrate as well because my mind was too caught up in the feeling of that, but for the moments I was actively watching, I can tell you that movie La La Land sparked something inside me that wasn't there before. Maybe it was the fact that I related to Ryan Gosling's character in the sense that I loved jazz and thought it was totally underrated. Arabelle reminded me a little of Mia too, both of them being artists who always wore the cutest little dresses and had bold personalities. Or perhaps it was something about its playful spirit that just made me want to break out into song and dance about, which was something I never did. But by the end of it, we found ourselves drawn to each other in movement, skipping around in the streets.

"Who knew you could dance so well?" she asked.

"*laughs* Not me!" I said.

"You've got some moves, Decker."

"So do you."

"Thanks. Guess I'll see you around tomorrow at school."

"Yeah, guess so."

"Have a good night," I said.

"You too…" she said, adjusting my shirt.

We awkwardly hugged, but then it went long and turned into something else, something intimate. I started to lean in to kiss her, but then backed off, unsure if it was the right moment, but then something amazing happened.

"I had a really great time tonight," she said.

"*smiles* Me too. I can't even think of the last time I saw a musical. It must've been, let's see-"

Suddenly, she stepped closer, her eyes serious and demanding. I stopped in my tracks, finding her face now before my own. The sound of her silence hushed my speech- the language of her movements, delicate whispers in my ear. I stood there, arms dangling by my sides, contemplating the moment. And suddenly she grabbed me by the back of the neck, her lips, glazed with gloss, nudging and colliding with my own. My hands sat on her hips, riding up the small of her back. She swept me away, kissing me once, then coming back for another and another- an unwinding passion.

"Goodnight," I said, holding onto her wrists as she held onto mine.

"Goodnight," she said, saluting me, then giggling and smiling as she walked inside her door.

I went home that night, the smell of her fragrance on my fingers still. I smiled to myself, thinking about how no longer was it that I was alone. I thought about her often and that filled a hole inside of me, but continuing to get those chronic night terrors made me miss Boris because it was those moments when I woke up in the middle of the night, breaking out in a cold sweat and panting in fear that he would pull and hold me so close, near and dear. I missed that overwhelming feeling of comfort and relief it brought me, as now I had no one to cradle me back to sleep.

This whole thing had me questioning everything. I was constantly trying to convince myself that I was just plain old straight. Yeah, right. Who was I kidding? Boris was always the more dominant presence in my mind and even in my life. It took me years to finally admit and come to terms with that, but sexuality's not an easy thing to confront.

And when our date finally came, the four of us, I didn't know whether to be scared or excited. I just knew that I had to not only shield Arabelle from all of the shit Kotku could stir up, but from my sometimes very apparent and obvious feelings for Boris as well.

Arabelle and I arrived at the skating rink first, right on time and greeted each other.

"Hey you," she said.

"Hey gorgeous," I said, giving her a quick peck.

"Are Boris and his girlfriend here yet?"

"No, I don't think so, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was running a little late or something."

"That's alright," she said, totally flexible. "Do you want to get our skates in the meantime? Might be nice to have a little time with just the two of us."

"Yeah, let's do that," I said, smiling.

"Okay, but don't be surprised when I fall on my ass over and over again," she said, pointing her finger at me.

"*laughs* I'm a bit of a clutz myself, so you're not alone in that."

We rolled around for quite a bit, holding hands and talking over the loud music about anything and everything, but I couldn't stop looking at my watch and checking my phone, wondering where the hell Boris was. He never did text me, he didn't even call! The only thing he did manage to do was show up drunk and 30 minutes late with Kotku, which completely rubbed me the wrong way, setting the overall tone of the double date.

"Any word from Boris?" she would ask.

"No, nothing. Forget him. Let's just have fun."

"I'm up for that," she said with a smile.

It was around then that he finally decided to show up, just when we had decided we were better off without him.

"I think I see them now," I said.

"Oh okay, let's go say hi," she said, putting her hand behind my back.

"Well, look who the cat dragged in!" I said, approaching him.

"Hey, Potter. We got you a littull something, man," he said, trying to butter me up.

"You're late," I replied.

"Yeah, sorry, we were out for a bit and just got a littull distracted," he said, laughing a little.

I noticed that he had missed a button or two on his shirt. I knew what that meant. They had gotten drunk together and then hooked up, but managed to buy me something somewhere in between as if that would make up for it.

"Not cool, man. It's one thing to be late, but to be thirty minutes late with two people waiting on you, no text, no phone call…"

"Lighten up, will ya?" said Kotku.

I rolled my eyes.

"You're right," Boris said. "I'm sorry, Theo. Wheel you at least accept thees bayg of popcorn as a token ove my sorrow and regret?"

In all the time that I'd known him, not once had he called me Theo. That was how I knew that he meant what he said because my name was almost like this sacred, unspoken word. It told me that he was being sincere.

"*rolls eyes and laughs* I hate you," I said, taking it from him.

"I know," he said with a smirk. "And you must be Arabelle."

"That's me," she said, smiling.

"Boris," he said, extending his hand.

"So nice to meet you in the flesh! Theo's told me so much about you."

"Oh yeah? Good things?"

"*laughs* Great things."

"*gasps* I'm shocked! I'm not the baste influence on thees one sometimes," he said, pulling me by his side.

"Dude, cut it out," I said. "You're embarrassing me..."

"See, I'm wrecking things oleready!" he said.

She laughed.

"Well, thees es Kotku. Her real name's Kaylee, but thayse my special nickname for her. Anyway, Kotku meet Arabelle, Arabelle meet Kotku."

"Call me either," Kotku said, shaking her hand unwillingly.

"I'll stick with Kotku," Arabelle replied with a smile.

"Well, eesn't thees nice? Two best friends and their girlfriends, hanging out," said Boris.

"*laughs* Yeah, it is," I said, smiling up at him, then at Arabelle.

"But wot are we standing around for?! Let's skate!"

And so we did! We skated around quite a bit. She held onto me for balance, which I enjoyed, until it pulled me down with her, nearly leaving me in the splits for Boris and Kotku to laugh at. There were moments where it could be really romantic, something about the multicolored lights that circled the perimeter of the rink, the everchanging music, and the overall feeling of rolling around with her that just made me want this moment to never end.

"Oh my god, I love this song! Don't you?" she asked.

"No, but I'm starting to," I said.

"Shall we make it our song?" she asked.

"Yeah, let's."

But I almost felt as if we had an audience, as there sat Boris, out on the sidelines, staring at us as Kotku kissed his neck.

"Looking good out there, Potter!" he shouted with cupped hands.

"Thanks…?" I said, caught off guard.

Then she turned to him, said she was bored, and the next thing I knew they were going at it like bunnies, hands groping, tongues entangling.

"God, haven't they ever heard of PDA?!"

"Well, clearly they have 'cause they're doing it right now," Arabelle said.

"I don't understand why they can't just get a room!"

"Aww, c'mon, they're kinda...sweet!"

"Sweet?"

"Notice I said kinda," she said with a laugh. "But seriously, don't let them bother you! *rubs neck* It's stupid."

"Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me..." I said, shaking my head.

"Theo, it's okay," she said, putting her hands on my cheeks.

The bliss of it all came in waves and came crashing back when Boris and I began to joke as if we were the ones dating, gliding against the hardwood floor in the Titanic pose.

"Jack!" I cried.

"Rose!" he cried.

"Jack!"

"Rose!"

All of us laughed...even Kotku.

It became the running joke of the date and for a while, it made me forget about the way his poor timeliness had made me feel, but later I was given other reasons to be upset with him...

"You guys are hilarious," said Arabelle.

"Why thank you!" Boris said, bowing. "*turns to me* Well, wot do you say, honey bear? Want to grab something to eat?"

I laughed.

"Sure. I'm going to get some nachos. What do you girls want? Can we get you anything?"

"I'll have a soft pretzel and a coke," said Kotku.

"Telepathy!" said Boris. "I woz just thinking the same thing. *kisses*"

Yuck, I thought to myself.

"Arabelle?" I asked.

"Um, how 'bout-" and then she turned and whispered in my ear, "A large soda...two straws. What kind do you like?"

I smiled.

"Um...Probably Sprite."

"Me too," she said.

"Cool, you got it."

"Wot's weeth the secrecy, Potter?" Boris asked.

"*laughs* It's nothing. Lay off!" I said, playfully hitting him.

"Sorry about that," I said, turning back to Arabelle. "You sure you don't want anything else?"

"Nah, I think the nachos and apology popcorn will suffice," she said with a grin.

I giggled.

And while the girls waited at the tables, struggling to find anything in common, Boris and I waited in line.

"Does she oleways wear dresses?" he asked, rudely.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"And you like that?"

"Well, yeah! It looks pretty on her. Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, just an observation..."

"Does Kotku always wear nose rings?" I asked.

"Haha, very funny."

"I thought so."

"She's cute, I'll give you that," Boris said, referring to Arabelle.

"Oh, will you, give me that?" I teased.

"*shoves playfully* Shut up!"

And sitting around the table, talking, Kotku suddenly turned to me.

"Hey, can I have some of your nachos? Thanks," she said as she made a grab for them.

I tried to keep my composure, but it was hard to, given that that was one of my major pet peeves. I then turned to Arabelle, who was just barely keeping it together, thinking back to our conversation about it on our first date. And once we had a moment alone together, she said:

"Theo, she's awful! She's one of those people we were talking about. *laughs* No wonder you're not a fan of her!"

Little did she know there were other reasons too.

"Yeah, no wonder…" I said. "She didn't say anything mean to you, did she?"

"Not yet," she joked.

"*laughs* Okay, good."

"We just aren't clicking though. I didn't want to make it seem like I was only being prejudiced against her because of her habits."

"Oh no, I didn't think that."

"Okay good," she said, stopping, then abruptly bringing up, "She did...say that I didn't know you as well as I thought though...Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Not that I can think of…" I said, playing it off as nothing.

"Okay, I trust you," she said, holding my cheeks.

Then she pinched them, saying "Do you know just how kissable your cheeks are?" as she kissed them herself. I honestly couldn't tell if they were red from the pinches, the lipstick-covered kisses, or if I was just blushing! But she just went on and on about how cute and adorable they were, saying, "You're like a sweet little chipmunk," then gasping upon realizing that one of the three chipmunks was, in fact, named Theodore. It was precious. I had never even given much thought to them, but apparently they were all the talk. Although, I think Boris was starting to get a little envious because Kotku wasn't really like that with him and maybe he even picked up on the fact that we had been gossiping about her a tad. I don't know, but things definitely started to go south after that and I don't think he liked seeing me get this much attention from someone other than him either. I don't think he realized how much it would affect him.

But Boris wasn't the only one who had a problem with Arabelle. Kotku did too, shooting her mean looks and mumbling things under her breath. And hell unleashed once they actually got to talking more.

"So, Kotku? How long have you and Boris been together?"

"I don't know. A while," she said, bored.

"O-kay...Well, what do you like about him?"

"I don't know, he's always spoiling me and taking care of me and shit, like a little puppy dog. Plus, he's got a nice body and he knows how to use it."

"Oh my! Well, *laughs nervously* that's um...blunt! But *laughs again* I'm glad that he's good to you. You two seem pretty happy together."

"*scoffs* Clearly you haven't seen us when we fight," she said.

"*laughs* Well, anyway, what kind of things are you into, like movies and music-wise?"

"You know, we really don't have to do that thing."

"What thing?"

"The small talk, the pretending like you care."

"I wasn't pretending," she said.

"Look, you can play the good girlfriend all you like, but just because our boyfriends are friends doesn't mean we have to be. So just stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours, got it?"

"Got it," she said, firmly. "If you'll excuse me…"

And she got up and disappeared for a while, until I found her in the bathroom, upset.

"Arabelle, you in there?" I asked, standing by the only closed stall.

"Sorry, she can't come to the phone right now," she replied.

I laughed, then asked:

"What happened out there?"

"She doesn't like me, Theo."

"Who? Kotku?"

"Yeah, she has something against me. I don't understand...I was trying to be nice."

"Just ignore her. She's like that with everyone, especially me. In fact, she probably just hates you because of me."

"*sniffles* You really think so?"

"Yeah, I really do. I mean, why wouldn't she like you? It's you."

Then she emerged from the bathroom stall and ran towards me in a hug.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?" I asked.

"For being so sweet and checking up on me."

"Well, of course I'm going to check up on you!"

She smiled.

"Hey, um while we're still in here *clears throat* do you maybe wanna...make out?" she asked.

"Really? Yeah!"

"Okay," she said casually, leaning up against the tile wall and curling her finger for me to come closer.

We remained like that until some people came in, but by then, we had traveled all the way to the sink counter, where Arabelle sat as I stood. It actually worked out pretty well, especially because of our height difference.

But once we got back out on the floor, things got weird. If I threw my arm around Arabelle, Boris would do the same with Kotku, nearly copying my every move. Eventually, Arabelle picked up on the fact that it was some sort of contest, one that she didn't want to be apart of and she pulled away. His stare was a laser that could burn a hole through my glasses, so uncomfortably fixed. And then he did the unthinkable. He pulled Arabelle aside to pester her with questions, acting like a complete jealous prick.

"Potter, mind eef I steal your girlfriend for a moment?"

"Uh, I guess not…"

"C'mon, Potter. Don't you trust me?"

"Well, no. Not really, but sure, if it's okay with Arabelle."

She nodded, wanting to see what this was all about.

He threw his arm around her and they walked off, leaving me alone with the dreadful Kotku. Once they stopped to talk, he stood close to her, closer than either of us would've liked.

"So, tail me, Arabelle. Wot's a pretty girl like you doing with a nerd like Potter?" he asked, touching her hair a little.

"*laughs* I like him! I think he's precious."

"Aww...Hayve you guys made anything official yet?"

"No, but things are going well so far, so hopefully we will soon," she said with a smile.

"Thayse good. How many boyfriends hayve you had anyway?"

"Just two."

"What do you see in Potter that you deedn't in them?"

"Um, *laughs* I don't know. He's not an asshole for one. He's just kind and fun...He's so smart and well-cultured. He's like no one I've ever met, really."

Then he started asking her inappropriate things like about whether or not we'd had sex yet and even worse, ones she'd answer with:

"That's...private."

"Oh c'mon, just between you and me. No one has to find out."

"*sighs* No, we haven't."

"Why not, cutie?"

"Boris, what is this? Are you hitting on me?"

"No, I'm testing you, your loyalty."

"Oh, I didn't realize there was a screening process to be his girlfriend!"

"Of course there is. Potter's family."

"Well, I don't know what else you want from me. I'm not going to hurt him."

"I can't know that for sure."

"Actually you can, 'cause I'm out of here…" she said, grabbing her coat.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What's wrong?" I asked, stepping in.

"Ask him and his girlfriend," she said.

"Wait, Arabelle, please, don't go!"

"I'm sorry, Theo, I just can't take anymore of this tonight. And *sighs* I think we should take a break."

"But we just started dating!"

"I know, but I need some space, some time alone with my thoughts."

"Thoughts? What thoughts?"

"*sighs* Did you guys used to date or something? Like did you ever go out together? Because I'm sensing a vibe here and picking up a lot of signals."

"No, nothing like that."

"Then like what?" she asked, pressing me.

I said nothing.

"Unbelievable...You know, if you can't tell me now, then just call me when you can. I'm done," she said, adjusting her purse strap and storming off.

Our first fight. Oh how disappointing it was, how badly we left things.

"Great! Now she's gone!" I said, furious with him.

"Potter, I'm...I'm so sorry, we deedn't mean to-"

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You don't think I can see what you're doing?"

"Doing? Doing wot?"

"You may not have asked for her address like you did Tyler's, but you clearly feel threatened by her. You think you can just keep me around forever, like I'm your pet or something? Well, that's not how this works, and besides, even dogs need to be cared for…"

"I do care for you, Potter! I try to hang out with you and I geev you Kotku's weed ole the time for free, so don't you dare say I deedn't throw the dog a bone."

"Fine, then why are you so obsessed with Arabelle and what we do together all of a sudden?"

"Becoz, Potter, you hayven't told me anything! I feel like I hayve to squeeze it out ove you like a ketchup bottle just to get the truth to come out."

"Just admit it. You're jealous!"

"Jealous?! Ha! Ove wot?"

"Jealous of our relationship, jealous of her because you like me, Boris. You need me. You can't live without me."

"You know wot? I'm leaving. Hayve a nice life, Potter…C'mon, Kotku. Let's go."

"Oh thank god," she said.

And there I was, date over, all alone, feeling like I had driven everyone away.

I went home in the crappiest of moods. I couldn't sleep, replaying the whole day in my mind, one that at times was so fun and at others, a hot mess. So instead, I spent the night planning how I could make it up to the both of them. I knew that Arabelle had asked me to call her, but while that was how to get her to listen to me, it wasn't going to be enough to get her to forgive me. I had to figure out what to say to make things right and how to go about it. And so I decided to go the Troy Bolton route, calling her up on the phone while waiting outside her apartment complex.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," I said back.

"You got an answer for me?" she asked.

"Yeah, but I have an apology to make first."

"Go ahead," she said.

"Arabelle, I'm so sorry...You were so patient and friendly when you didn't have to be, but Boris and I, we were just being complete assholes and you didn't deserve that. Any of it!"

"You weren't an asshole. He and Kotku were," she said.

"Yeah, I know, but I could've put a stop to it and I still upset you in the end. I just let you down."

"Well, consider yourself half forgiven."

"What about the other half?" I asked.

"You tell me."

"*sighs* If I tell you, promise that you won't tell anyone else under any circumstances."

"Yes, I promise, I won't tell. You have my word."

"Okay, well, you know how Boris and I...get high sometimes?"

"Yes."

"Well, we don't just get high. Sometimes it's more than that. Sometimes we've...done other things, like fooled around together."

"Oh, I see," she said.

"Yeah, so, now you know."

"I have a couple of questions," she said.

"Sure, that's fair."

"Okay, well, first, the obvious question, are you gay?"

"No, no. Things only happened between us when we were drunk and high and stupid. Total coincidence."

I could tell she wasn't believing a word of it.

"The truth, Theo," she said.

"*sighs* I don't really know myself, I'm still figuring that part out, but I know that what you and I have is real and I'm not pretending to be someone that I'm not."

"Okay, that's all I needed to hear. You don't have to have it all figured out right now. It's not all black and white."

"Thanks for understanding."

"Of course. Sexuality's fluid," she said. "But I do need to know, Theo, are things still going on between you and Boris...sexually?"

"No, not since Kotku came into the picture and I wouldn't want to prompt them either because I'll always be faithful to you for however long we're together. That you can count on."

"You're a good guy, Theo. I love that about you. Thank you for being honest with me. I know that wasn't easy, putting yourself in a vulnerable place like that."

"It's nothing. I'm just glad you don't hate me. I thought I had screwed everything up between us," I said, laughing.

"I'm glad I don't hate you either," she said, also laughing. "And I also don't hate Boris. I really like him. I just think he let things come between you guys. Can't say the same for Kotku though…"

"*laughs* Understood," I said.

"Honestly, even though our double date ended on a bad note, at least it's better than the alternative…"

"What alternative is that?"

"Well, with all of those sex questions Boris was asking me, I started to get a little scared that it was going to turn into one giant orgy or something!"

"Eww, gross!" I said, laughing uncomfortably.

"Right? I know! I don't think I could handle that...I mean, Kotku's hot and all, but pretty damn intimidating."

I laughed hysterically.

"You are insane."

"I think you mean insanely entertaining."

"That too," I said.

"Ugh, I wish I could see you now...I've missed you over the past couple of days."

"Look outside," I said.

And she walked out just as it was raining to find me in a yellow raincoat, phone to my cheek. Then she smiled, lowered her phone, and waved me over, having me meet her parents last minute. I felt bad about my raggedy, damp appearance, but they didn't seem to mind. In fact, they invited me to dinner that coming Thursday. And Boris, well, I had made up with him too, but that's a whole other story. We'll get to that.


	8. Abstinence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Things have been hectic lately and I was a little less pleased with this one at first, so I was putting it off, but now I think it's pretty cute. This one's a shorter chapter, but the title will definitely look familiar to my Mileven in Heaven fans, wink wink. That is purposeful as I thought this would be a fun nod to the finale chapter title "Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder," while having the pun of it also pertain to the actual subject matter in the current chapter :) Also, can we talk about how the vodka's like Mileven's M&Ms?! AHHH! Anyway, hope you enjoy this one, guys!

The next day at school, after the World War III of double dates, Boris and I sat at the different lunch tables for the first time since we first became friends. Usually, he insisted on sitting with me so much that he'd drag Kotku along too, tearing her away from her friends, but my, how the tables have turned! Now he was all buddy-buddy with her crackhead, and I mean actual crackhead, friends, sitting with them instead. And it's not like Arabelle was going to sit with me either because we had different lunches and were still on a break at that point. I started to feel like a lonely island or like I had been diagnosed with some deadly disease and this was my quarantine. Maybe I'm being way too dramatic in saying that, but I couldn't stand his silence and couldn't stand not knowing what it meant even more. So I did something about it.

In Civics, you could cut the tension with a knife. There was always tension between us, but usually it was the good kind, the exciting kind. Then I remembered that we'd both be stuck in detention together after school for something we had done months before and gotten in trouble for. Luckily I had already come to school with a plan and by the time detention came around, I went through with it.

"You still not talking to me?" I asked.

"Wot do you think?" he said, giving me a look.

"Well, are you still mad at me?"

"Are you steel mad at me?"

I sighed heavily.

"Thayse wot I thought," he said.

So I did what I had to do. Luckily, no one ever really paid much attention to me, so I so casually and discretely pulled a flask filled with vodka out of my jacket pocket and filled my water bottle with it. Then I offered it to him, saying:

"Truce?"

"Oh, Potter, you bayd, bayd boy! That's impresseev, even for you."

"Do you accept?" I asked with a smile.

"Do I accept? HA!"

"Glad to have you back, man," I said, patting him on the back.

"You know, Kotku's not here today. She must've deetched."

"Ah. I was wondering why she wasn't in here with us."

"I deedn't mean deetched detention, asshole!" he said, laughing and nudging me. "I'm just saying I think she cut class."

"Well, it's only a matter of time before she ends up in here!"

I didn't like Kotku, but even though I couldn't feel sorry for her given what she was like, no one deserved to go through what she had. Sure, Boris may have lived on the streets with his friends back in Ukraine whenever his dad was drunk and his home was no longer a safe place for him, but Kotku, on the other hand, was left with no choice after her mother's boyfriend started molesting her. She slept in doorways, begged for change, blew guys for money, was even out of school for a while, but found the strength to come back and finish after rumors started to spread. But I guess I kind of understood Boris' infatuation with her. It was the same one I had had with Pippa, chasing after someone who had been through what I'd been through.

"I'm sorry, but I don't like Kotku. I try my best to hide it and keep it to myself, but it's just how I feel."

"I know," he said. "I mean, I weesh et was different, but she doesn't like you either. She thinks you're spoiled and snobby and that you can't even begin to understand the kind of shit that we've been through."

"That seems fair," I said, but I couldn't help but wonder if he believed that too...Maybe he didn't care because I was his best friend and we could get a lot out of my "privileges" that to me, felt like disadvantages compared to New York. But then again, our bond over loss and pain was so strong, I knew it was deeper than his with Kotku, even if he continued to believe otherwise. She may have been through more similar things to him than I had, but thus brought my question of Was I just not enough for him anymore? I guess I kind of understood his infatuation with her though. It was the same one I had had with Pippa, chasing after someone who had been through what I'd been through.

"*laughs* Your girlfriend wouldn't be coat dead een here," he said.

"She could too!"

"Unlikely."

"Yeah, okay…"

"She's your age, no?"

"No, she's actually a junior."

"Older woman, huh? Wait to go, Potter."

"I'm sorry about the things I said yesterday by the way...That was-"

"Een the past. Don't worry about eet, Potter. Ees all good now."

"I know, but it was just uncalled for."

"Ole is forgiven! You know, I'm sorry about wot I deed too."

"You already said that, no need to say it again," I said.

"But you were right."

"About what?"

"Nothing."

We held eye contact for longer than I would've thought, but then I broke it, saying:

"Well, I guess we have to start sorting through all of this crap Coach left us with."

"Yeah, okay."

I was suggesting that we should start sorting through it, but of course to Boris that meant 'I'll watch while you work.'

"What are you smiling about, lazy butt?"

"Nothing," he said, lying across the desks, still smiling at me.

He may have said it was nothing, but his eyes said it all.

"You know, this would go twice as fast if you weren't such a slacker!"

"Yeah, but you know you love me, Potter…"

Silent, I cracked a smile.

At one point, I couldn't reach some of the files at the very top of the bookshelf and asked for his help. He sighed, jumping up on his feet and reaching for it, facing me as he did. And then, as he brought it down to our level, I made a grab for it, but suddenly, he jerked it away, lifting it up higher than I could reach, saying:

"Aht, aht, aht, not so fast, Potter!"

"Real mature!" I said.

"We both know I'm far from mature…" he said.

"That was sarcasm, dumbass! Now give me it!" I said pathetically.

"Not unless you say the magic ward…" he teased in sing-song.

"And what word is that?" I asked.

"Do you remember that special Russian phrase I taught you, you know, the one that means walrus-"

"Oh my god, NO! I will NEVER remember that. Please pick a different word!"

"Sorry, a deal's a deal!"

"Oh no, you don't!" I said, making one last grab for it.

And just as I did, reflexes acting quickly, he passed it through his hands, my hand catching his now empty one.

We froze. At first, I thought he did it on purpose, but I could tell by the look of shock on his face that he wasn't expecting it either. Then we both slowly and awkwardly lowered our hands and unlaced our fingers, ignoring the spark it ignited between us.

We both split in opposite directions like they do in the movies in a moment like this, but eventually, he came back and returned to the little desk cot he had made himself, drinking himself dry until he passed out atop it.

"Boris," I whispered.

*no response*

"Boris!" I said louder.

*no response*

Then I walked over to him and checked his pulse, just to be sure, but when his heart was still clearly beating, I just shrugged and thought to myself Eh, he'll be okay. He's always okay, not wanting to wake him from his drunken spell.

And nearly an hour later, when it was time for us to leave, I tried gently shaking him awake, but when that didn't work, I slammed a textbook next to his ear. He sat up suddenly, alert and confused.

"Huh? Wot happened?"

"Detention's over. You slept through most of it."

"Wot about the-"

"It's all taken care of."

"Oh, c'mere, Potter, you beautiful son of a bitch!" he said with gratitude, knocking into me, then grabbing on for balance.

"My mother wasn't a bitch…" I snapped.

"First ove ole, ees just a phrase, ees not personal, you know that, and second ove ole, I woz tawking about your father."

"Okay, that's fair," I said with a laugh. "Sorry, I don't know what got into me. I think it's just the alcohol talking..."

"Ees okay, Potter."

"I know, but I guess I just- *sighs* I don't know...It's stupid."

"Wot's stoopidt?"

"I guess *sighs* sometimes I just worry that I might turn into him…"

"Who?"

"My father."

"Oh, Potter, don't say that. You are far from heem. Sure, we like to drink, but you are bayter person than him, no doubt. He doesn't keer about anyone but heemself and you hayve more self-control than he does."

"I know, but alcoholism runs in the family, you know? So, what if I have it too?"

"Well, then why don't you poot yourself to the taste. See if you can stop drinking for two weeks. Ees the only way to know for shore."

"Alright, but if I'm going down, then I'm taking you with me! That means you have to sober up too, my friend."

"But tempting you ees half the test!"

"Oh c'mon, it's good for your liver!"

"*sighs* Fine...Abstinence eet ees!" he said, not so thrilled.

I smiled.

"Let's shake on it, just so I know you won't flake on it," I said with a wink.

"Okay. *shakes hand* You hayve my ward, Potter."

"Good. Well, let the games begin!"

"At the end of ole of thees though, we should get really drunk to celebrate. Hell, I might even get us some wine or champagne or something eef we wanna go ole out."

"Ooh, I like the sound of that!" I said.

"Then eet's settled. Thayse wot we'll do."

We went home together that day on the activity bus, spending most of the time with our heads in the toilet, what would be our last drinking binge for a while.

"Well, at least this is one thing we won't have to worry about anymore. That's a relief!"

"*wipes mouth* Yeah, tail me about eet!"

"Wait, what happened to your face?"

"I don't know, I'm probably just punch drunk," he joked.

I laughed, I couldn't help but, but then I got real.

"No, but really, you have all of these cuts and bruises that weren't there before," I said, rubbing his face.

"Ah, easy!" he said, wincing at my touch. "Thayse becoz I poot a littull makeup over eet."

"Where the hell did you get makeup from? Oh right, Kotku," I said, suddenly noticing his black painted nails which she had clearly done herself.

"Sorry, that's not the point," I continued, slurring my words together. "The point is that your deadbeat dad fucked up your face again and we need to do something about it!"

"Eet's out of our hands, Potter, you know that and besides, I hayd eet coming this time…"

"No, I'm sorry, but that's bullshit, Boris! You don't deserve this one bit! No one does! How could you think that?"

"Becoz…*sighs* he coat me sleeping with her."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh!" he said, mimicking me. "See, you can't defend me now, can you?"

"Why are you so keen on everyone being against you?"

"Becoz, Potter, at the end of the day, everyone's deesappointing. Even you."

"Well, you're wrong. I will never be on anybody's side but yours."

"Even if it came between me and Arabelle?"

"Okay, let's not do this."

"Fine. Then wot do you want to do about eet, Potter? Really?"

"I don't know, but something's better than nothing."

"Let's just face the facts here. You blame thees more on Kotku than you do my dad."

"That's not even- *sighs* Why are you trying to pick fights? Huh?"

"I'm not, I'm just trying to cole attention to the beeg elephant in the room. Ees bayter than doing wot you're doing, acting like everything's good between us when eet's not, not yet anyway..."

"No, but you are, picking fights. And *snorts* are you calling your own girlfriend an elephant?"

"No...Oh, shut ope, Potter!" he said, shoving me.

I laughed. I missed this.

And it being a Friday, I was planning to stay up watching tv with Popper like I always did. I kept checking my phone, waiting for him to follow up after today. It was quite eventful, considering we had made up, had a moment, fought, then were good again. And sure enough, he Snapchatted me at about 2:30, saying:

Hey, you still up?

Yeah, you?

Wouldn't be snapping you if I wasn't, he said with a laughing emoji.

Oh right, lol, I said with a facepalm emoji.

Our chats usually consisted of us just roasting the hell out of each other, seeing how long it could go and who could do it better. For example:

Wyd? he asked.

Talking to my streaks.

Oh, so you got some hoes? he asked with his devilish little smile.

Fine, you a hoe then, I responded, flipping him off in the snap.

He took a screenshot. I smiled to myself, not only proud of my comeback, but just imagining his wheezy little laugh from behind the phone screen too.

Ah, I'm hurt, he said, grabbing his chest as if he'd been shot.

Sorry, truth hurts, hoe, I said with a smirky face.

And it was around then that he said:

Can I ask you something?

Yeah, sure. What's up?

Do you still have feelings for me?

A part of me was expecting him to ask some juicy question that poked at our history, but I guess I wasn't expecting him to be that upfront about it.

Who said I ever had feelings for you, hoe? I asked.

Your blowjob eyes, he said, raising his eyebrows in a video.

What you talkin bout, Willis?

You know what I'm talking about, he said.

I don't know...I mean, we shared some wild nights together, but no reason to dig that up, right?

No reason to suppress it either.

Actually, there is. We both have girlfriends now. End of story.

I don't think our story will ever be over...

I sighed. I knew this was just his boredom talking, just something he did to test the waters, no matter how twisted that was. Then again, he was twisted, but I loved him for it.

I left him on read, which he proceeded to call out. Then he continued to poke at the situation at hand.

I'm sorry that my answer doesn't satisfy you, your highness, I finally said with an eye-rolling and crown emoji to follow.

He replied back with a plethora of laughing emojis.

Look, you were my first, of course I'm going to feel something.

So you do like me then? he asked.

Not like like.

Like like! What are you, six?

Fuck you! I said with laughing emojis.

And an hour later, he once again asked:

Can I ask you a question?

Oh lord, what now?

You don't seem too eager.

Well, it's 3:30 in the morning, so yeah, I'm a little skeptical to agree to the second question after the stress you put me through with the first one!

Fine, I'll ask you tomorrow then, although I might forget.

Write it down then!

Don't wanna.

Do it!

Nie!

ENGLISH!

NIE!

Ugh, there's just no winning with you, is there?

What are you trying to do? Win me over?

No are YOU?

No.

Good then.

It's really important though, I mean, it could change everything!

Boris, literally wtfff, why now?!

You really want to know what it is, don't you?

Yeah!

How badly on a scale from 1-10?

Pretty damn badly.

Okay, fine, if you really want to know so badly…

I said nothing, waiting for a follow-up snap, but there was none.

Boris, did you fall asleep?

Ha! Gotcha!

I'm going to fucking kill you!

Whoa, chill, Potter...Why so aggressive?

*facepalm emoji* Just quit being a little pussy and ask me already!

Fine, you really want me to ask you?

Yes!

Ты любишь Арабель? he asked, having the snap set to the shortest period of time he could. Replaying it didn't do shit.

Omggg, literally fuck you! Stop fucking around!

Sorry, I couldn't resist, but seriously, just go to bed if you're so tired, he said with a laughing emoji or two.

But the curiosity will kill me!

Well, then I guess you're stuck talking to me.

Yeah, I guess I am, I said with a rolling eyes emoji.

And after an hour more of this, when I finally found the courage to go to bed, he then said:

Wait, but don't you wanna know?

That depends on whether or not you're actually going to ask me.

He sent clown emojis. Of course he would send clown emojis.

So which one is it? Are you going to tell me or disappoint me?

You go to bed. Don't worry about this. I'll tell you tomorrow.

You owe me, I said.

Noted, Potter. Night, he said with a moon and heart.

Goodnight, loser, I said.

Boris was the biggest fucking tease you'd ever meet. He'd ask you something deep and keep fishing for that answer until you told him what he wanted to hear. Then he would twist your words and guilt trip you, continuing to egg you on and jerk you around, anything to get a rise out of you until you just couldn't get enough. I found the fact that he was doing this while he was still with Kotku to be a huge turn off, not to mention a red flag, but if that was really true, then why was I falling for him even more. Maybe it was because I knew. I knew that deep down, he was only doing all of this because he wanted me and that THAT he wasn't playing around about. He wouldn't do this with anyone while we were together. The goal was to get to me, and get to me he did.

I wasn't sure how I felt about him sucking me in like this and stringing me along like it was going to go somewhere, only to see him all over Kotku the next day. It wasn't fair to me or her, but then again, it's not like she cared. She had done the same behind his back. I never did find out what he asked me in Russian though, but I have this gut feeling that it had something to do with Arabelle.

I do think that it brought us closer together though, our shared sobriety. It was like a binding promise between the two of us. We only had each other to lean on through it all. Going sober for two weeks, we found ourselves getting even more bored than normal, but I found us spending more time with each other because of it, which I liked.

"Wot'd we ever do for fun anyway?" he would ask.

"*shrugs* Beats me," I would say.


	9. You're Making Me Crazy, Really Driving Me Mad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for being such a slow poke again. My grandad moved in with us temporarily, so I've been spending more time with him. Anyway, I'm very excited about certain parts of this chapter and am really looking forward to the next one. I'd love to hear some feedback from you guys too because I don't have a lot of readers for this particular story, so those of you who do read it, feel free to comment :) I hope that all of my Finn Wolfhard, Calpurnia, Mac Demarco, or TikTok stans will get the title, lol.

"Welcome, Theo! So glad to have you here," Arabelle's mother said at the door.

"Thank you, Mrs. Atwood."

"Oh, please, call me Rosalyn."

I nodded and smiled as she let me inside.

"Honey, Theo's here," she said to Arabelle's father.

"Theodore! Good to meet you!" he said, pulling me in for a fatherly hug, one I needed.

"*chuckles* Good to meet you too, Mr. Atwood."

"Oh, manners- Pff! *throws hand down*," he said. "We're real casual around here. Call me Flynn."

"Yes, sir- I mean- Flynn," I said. "That soup sure smells delicious by the way. The turkey too!"

"Well, what can I say! Art's my career, but cooking's my hobby. Oh and the turkey's for Pheebs. We like to make her something special sometimes too."

I smiled.

"Bella hon, Phoebe's turkey's going to get cold!" he shouted.

"She loves to feed the dog. It's her favorite part," he then added.

"I'm sure Bella will be out in a minute. I think she's still just getting ready," her mom said.

"Not a problem," I said.

"Why don't you make yourself at home in the meantime," she said, patting the couch.

"Alright, thank you."

Their home was so nice and comfy, even for an apartment. But that wasn't the only thing about it, it was colorful too, so much so that I even experienced a little culture shock once I returned home that night. Their home was a gallery in itself! It was FILLED with paintings, everywhere you looked. There wasn't an empty spot on those walls! It hadn't even been 30 seconds since I sat down that I was up on my feet again, wandering around and examining each of them with a Tim Gunn expression on my face. I've always had a fascination with paintings.

"Actually, I think I'll take a look around at all of these paintings," I said.

"Oh yes, please do!" her father said.

I figured most of them had to be her father's art, but they demonstrated such immense talent that it was hard to believe I would even have the chance to be in the presence of such a great artist. Something about them reminded me a little of Scott Avett's work, a Southern artist and musician who does a lot of colorful, modern portraits of people. Now, Scott Avett may be better known for his band, The Avett Brothers, but then again, the backgrounds of Mr. Atwood's paintings had a Gustav Klimt quality to them, the models captured in such a way that only Johannes Vermeer could do, both two extraordinary, renowned painters he took after. Yet despite all of that, I couldn't deny the undeniable originality that they all seemed to share.

Many of the paintings were of Arabelle's mother. No surprise there, as Arabelle did say that she was his muse after all, and understandably so. But I was particularly captivated by the ones of Arabelle herself, which she later showed me.

"Thought I might find you here," she said, sneaking up from behind and throwing her arms around me.

"It just demands to be looked at...questioned."

"You know what that is, right?"

I shrugged.

"That's the painting my dad used to propose to my mom."

"What role did it play in it?"

"Well, as you can see, it's a painting of my dad and a rabbi standing in front of this outdoor altar and rows full of people watching-"

"But there's no bride…" I said.

"Precisely."

"I don't get it."

"*laughs* Ask my dad at dinner. He'll give you the full scoop."

"I'm intrigued...but wow. Just wow! You sure are spoiled to be surrounded by all of this beautiful art all of the time."

"You think that's cool, just wait till you see this," she said, starting to walk away.

"See what?" I asked.

"C'mon, I'll show you," she said, guiding me in a handhold.

On the doorframe of Arabelle's room were markings of each of her heights at every age, but on a strip of wide masking tape since it was an apartment. And next to that was a wall full of paintings of her from age 0 to present day, one at each age. It made me feel closer to her somehow, just by looking at them.

"That's you?"

"Yeah. *laughs* Can't you tell?"

"Well, yeah, pretty much. I mean, you've always had the same sweet face, that's clear to me now."

"Aww, thanks. I'm sure the same goes for you."  
"*smiles* Your dad must really love you…"

"Well, like I said on our first date, I'm pretty close to both of my parents, but I guess I always have been a bit of daddy's girl."

"Thank you for showing this to me. Really, it's like your own personal museum!"

"*giggles* Yeah, a little bit," she said, nodding. "Do you have a favorite? Of all of the ones you've seen?"

"Well, I mean, they're all so good and different! I don't know if I could decide! I'm still interested to hear more about this proposal painting, but this is the one that really caught my eye."

"That's actually mine."

"What?"

"I painted that one."

"No way!" I said. "Are there any more of yours?"

"Yeah, a few. Most are in my room because I'm a bit shy about them, but my dad insists on putting more up around the living room area and in his actual gallery. Here, I'll show you some more."

"Really? Thanks."

"Sure," she said with a smile.

We were somehow able to get through all of them before dinnertime. I loved that watercolor was her preferred medium because I always had a liking for it myself. By diluting the paint, it muted the colors a tad, often giving them more of a pastel feel. There was something so delicate about that that spoke to me.

"Alright you two. Dinner's ready!" Rosalyn yelled from the kitchen.

Arabelle's mother was Israeli-American and so drop dead gorgeous, she might as well have been Gal Gadot! Her father was white with a rugged attractiveness about him that made the combo really come together in Arabelle. You could tell that they were very in love with each other. That became clear very early on.

"What we got here?" Arabelle asked, tongue wetting her lips as she snooped around the pot.

"Oh you know, just...avocado lime chicken soup," her dad so humbly announced, pouring it into bowls.

"That literally sounds amazing, dad. My mouth's already watering!"

"Aww, well, thank you, sweetie. I hope it's satisfactory."

"It always is," she said, kissing his cheek.

"Let me help, Rosalyn," I said, grabbing utensils to set the table with her.

"Nonsense! You're our guest! Have a seat, Theo," she so friendly said.

"You sure?"

"Yes, I insist."

No use in fighting her about it.

"Alright," I said.

Soon a familiar friend approached me, and no, I don't mean Boris. This one was a furry friend.

"Hi Phoebe!" I said as her sweet little dog approached me.

Phoebe was the cutest miniature Shar Pei. Her dear little wrinkled face was just demanding a rubdown, so I gave into the pressure. Then I smiled as I watched Arabelle scatter the turkey in Phoebe's bowl, garnishing it with things like her father would in the soup. Meeting my gaze, she winked and joined me at the dinner table, as did her parents.

"Well, shall we say grace?" Rosalyn asked.

"Let's!" Arabelle answered.

"Shall I do the honors?" Flynn asked.

*both nod*

"*sighs* Alright. *clears throat* Bless the meat, damn the skin, open your kisser, and cram it in!" he said.

"Amen," I said, laughing.

Arabelle's mother was Jewish, as was Arabelle. Her father had converted to Judaism as well, but enjoyed quirkier prayers, as did they.

"Isn't that a funny little prayer?" he asked.

"It is!" I said.

"I know we're not exactly having chicken tonight or anything, but it's still my favorite to use."

The room was suddenly filled with silence, that and the many occasional 'Mmms' that escaped our lips as spoon met mouth.

"How's the soup, Theo?"

"Delicious, sir, truly."

"I'm glad…So, Theo, you seem like a sophisticated old chap. Who's your favorite artist? I think it says a lot about a person."

"I don't know exactly. I like colonial painters like Copley, guess I'm a bit of a history nerd in that way, but I love modern art too. Some of the best art is the kind that doesn't play by the rules but accomplishes its purpose and makes you feel something."

"Couldn't have said it better myself!" he said.

"You know, Theo, I think you might really enjoy hearing one of Flynn's lectures at the university sometime. You're welcome to sit in on one," Rosalyn offered.

"Thank you. I will definitely take him up on that," I said with a smile. "Not to embarrass Arabelle, but you don't happen to have any funny stories about her now, do you?"

"Oh, tons! She was such a funny child, horrible sleeper, which was a pain in our necks, but happy as could be," her mom said.

"Yeah, let's see, which one should we tell, Rose, the juice one?"

"Oh no, you wouldn't dare!" Arabelle said.

"Oh, but we would," her mother teased.

"So when Bella was about 2 or 3, there was one night where she woke up screaming bloody murder, going-"

"'JUICE! JUICE! I WANT JUICE!'" her dad imitated.

I cracked up and while her face turned bright red, even she couldn't hold back her laughter.

"So, I get up to check on her and I say 'You-You-You) want some juice?'" Arabelle's mother said.

"Then Bella so sweetly goes: 'No, just water...You're a nice mommy…" said her father.

I made the mistake of taking a drink just as they shared the punchline of the story, a sip that resulted in water coming right out of my nose as I laughed out loud.

"*chuckles* That's adorable," I said, reaching out and rubbing the back of her neck.

"In my defense, I was a very indecisive child, okay?" she said. "But what about you, Theo? You got any good stories to share with us?"

"Well, this isn't a very long one, but when I was really little, we used to have this dog and there was this one picture I took with it where I was wearing a red sweater. I was about five then, and so whenever my mom or dad would show someone the picture, I would point at it and say 'I'm the one in the red sweater,' as if they couldn't tell me apart from the dog."

"That's so cute!" Arabelle said, giggling.

And later, her dad hit me with a question I wasn't ready for:

"So tell me, Theo, what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?"

"Well, I-"

"Don't scare the boy, Flynn…" Rosalyn said.

"What? It's fun! *turns to me* You know I'm just pulling your leg, right?"

"I do now," I said with relief.

"See, he thinks it's funny!"

"I don't think he's the one you should be worrying about, Dad," Arabelle said, referring to her mother.

"Maybe you're right. Your mother never did like my jokes, did she?"

"Now that is just not true!" she responded. "I just happened to be the butt of them a lot of the time."

"Hey, just because you're the world's most beautiful woman doesn't mean that you're immune or get a free pass from my jokes all of a sudden..."

She blushed.

"So Rosalyn, what kind of modeling do you do?" I asked, a little afraid to in case it was lingerie.

"Just typical model stuff, fashion magazines and such. I travel a lot, which I'm sure Bella's told you," she said, rubbing Arabelle's chin. "But locally, I do a lot of casino ads, as am I'm sure you can imagine."

"I was actually wondering what brought you all here."

"Oh well, actually, that's a funny story! You see, we met at Drexel University, where I got my degree in fashion modeling and he got his art history degree."

"Oh, I didn't realize you had a degree. That's wonderful!"

"Yes, well, my mother insisted that if I was so keen on becoming a model, then I might as well have a brain too."

"Pff, mothers. What does she think you are, a scarecrow?" I interjected.

"Exactly! Thank you, Theo! *rolls eyes, sighs* Anyhow, Arabelle's father was a big old flirt!"

"Only because you were hard to get!" he said, defending himself.

"Oh please! *sighs* Anyway, after we dated a bit in college and things started to take their course, I finally told him that I was offered a job in New York. It broke his heart and I still feel awful about it, but then, years later, I started hearing about this art exhibit in Las Vegas. In fact, I was asked in a magazine interview about it. I didn't think much of it at first when they told me that the entire exhibit was filled with paintings of myself. And being the young, impressionable girl that I was at the time, I thought to myself, Well, this must be some big coincidence, right? Just a fan or something. But the minute I heard that Flynn Atwood was the artist behind it, I hopped on a plane the first thing I could and went to see for myself."

"And she hasn't left since…" he then said, leaning closer to her.

"That's right," she said. "I was your muse and you were my weakness. *smiles, foreheads touch*"

"Wow, that's quite the story. And I heard there's a proposal one too...Care to share?" I asked.

"Happy to," Rosalyn said, patting Flynn's leg. "Why don't you start, honey?"

"Well, after Rose had booked her first Vegas modeling job, we moved in together for what were two of the best years of my life. She left me no other choice but to propose. That finger was just begging to be hugged by a ring!"

"You're so full of it…" she said, laughing.

"She knows I'm right!" he said. "Anyway, Theo, one day, I took her out for a picnic, but inside the house, I had left the painting out on my easel for her."

"It was surrounded by roses and candles!" she said.

"I put it right in plain sight so that when we got back, I could be sure she'd wander over to it."

"And how did you pop the question?" I asked.

"Well, I'm sure you noticed that there wasn't a bride in the painting, right? Only me, the rabbi, and the guests."

"Right."

"Well, I did that on purpose just so when she saw it herself for the first time, I could say 'The only thing missing is you,' pull a ring out of my pocket, and ask her then and there. I realize that it was a cheesy line and all, but I meant every word of it."

"It wasn't cheesy. It was romantic. There's a fine line and you did not cross it," she said, giving him a quick kiss.

"That's the best proposal I think I've ever heard of…" I said.

"I think so too," said Arabelle. "It's like something straight out of a movie, I mean, my god, I'm already tearing up after my millionth time of hearing it! *laughs*"

I smiled, wiped her tears away, and said:

"Well, the painting's lovely and genius. In fact, all of them are."

"I'd love to show you my exhibit sometime."

"Oh, I don't-I don't know if that's such a good idea…" I said.

"Why not? You love art, don't you?"

"Well, I do, but I guess I'd just feel too tempted to take one home with me!" I said, then realizing what a mistake I had made in saying that.

"*laughs* Have you smuggled a painting before?"

*no response*

"Whoa, Theo, you look like you've seen a ghost...I was just joshin' ya! If you'd really like to take one home, that can be arranged. I've got loads around here!"

"No, it's not that…" I said.

"Then what?" he asked.

"Dad!" Arabelle said, shaking her head.

"What sweetie? What is it?"

"Just drop it."

"Why, hon?"

"Because! You just need to."

"No, Arabelle, it's okay. It's okay, really."

"Are you sure you're comfortable telling them?" she asked.

"Telling us what?" Rosalyn asked.

"My mother um...Well, she and I were in the Metropolitan Museum of Art the day it was bombed."

"Oh my god, we heard about that! Such a tragedy...You know, we actually lost several of our friends to that, but to think that you were one of the survivors! Wow...You must feel so lucky," Flynn said.

"I wish I could say that I did, but I'd be lying."

"And your mother? Did she-"

"Make it out? No. She did not…"

"Oh, Theo darling, I'm so terribly sorry," Rosalyn said, rubbing my arm.

"Thank you, Rosalyn. I appreciate it."

"Your mother, I'm sure she really loved you, you know. You're a fine young gentleman. She was lucky to have you as her son in the short time that she did."

I said nothing, but pressed my lips together, teary-eyed as I grabbed her hand and put it in mine. She was the closest thing I had to a mother in that moment.

"I get it now, Theo," Flynn said. "You take your time. No need to rush into anything familiar to that anytime soon."

"Thank you, sir."

"Of course, son."

"Well, I think I should be heading out. It's getting late and my dad's expecting me home pretty soon."

"Alright, do you want me to give you a ride home?" Arabelle asked.

"Yeah, that'd be nice, thank you."

"Theo, I'm sorry if we offended you in any way or overstepped," Rosalyn said.

"No, I promise you, I had a lovely time, truly."

"Well, we're just sorry it had to end on a bad note."

"No, I'm glad you know. It's better this way."

"Good then. Well, you have a good night, okay?" she said, kissing my cheek.

"I'll do it! You too, Mrs. Atwood."

"Thank you, dear."

"Goodnight, Mr. Atwood."

"Goodnight, Theo. I'm going to have Arabelle pass on my card to you if you ever wanted to tune in on one of those lectures."

"Cool! Thank you so much. I look forward to it!"

And with that, we left.

"Nice car," I said.

"Thanks," she said. "It's new, well, not actually new, just new to me. I just got my license."

"I'm so proud of you," I said, arms hugging her waist as I leaned in.

"Mmm…" she said, finger sliding down my jawline as her lips met mine.

Once we got in, I said:

"You know, it's funny, I actually have Driver's Ed coming up this Saturday."

"Oh really? Well, I'll be praying for you," she said, laughing.

"Why?" I asked, also laughing.

"Because...it's boring as hell!"

"True, but it can't be too bad with Boris there."

"B-Boris is taking it with you?" she asked nervously.

"Yeah…" I said, weirded out.

"Oh. Well, tell him I said hi," she so casually said.

"I will," I said, surprised.

"You know, I worry a little about Boris behind the wheel," she joked.

"A little? I worry A LOT about Boris behind the wheel, but luckily Driver's Ed is just a class and he's sober at the moment anyway."

"I'm sorry, Boris? Sober? I never thought I'd hear those two words in the same sentence!"

"Yeah, I am too actually. We made a pact, two weeks."

"Gone cold turkey, huh? Wow, that's uh...that's something!" she said.

"What?" I asked. "What is it?"

"No, it's nothing, I just...Oh, Theo, he won't last a week, let alone two!"

"Yee of little faith!" I said.

"*laughs* I'm sorry, but I have met the guy."

I laughed.

"Theo," she said.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for being so amazing…"

"Are you kidding? I totally wrecked dinner with your parents!"

"No, really, you were so polite and wonderful. They LOVED you!"

"Well, that's just because your parents are super cool!"

"Trust me, I know...That's actually caused problems in the past…" she said.

"Problems? What problems?"

"Well, *sighs* my other boyfriends, before you...they either had a thing for my mom or always hung out with my dad...sometimes both!"

"I would never do that!" I said. "But listen, if me sitting in on one of your dad's lectures would be too close to that-"

"No, go! That'll be so much fun!"

"You sure?"

"Yes! It'd be silly to waste an opportunity like that."

"Well, for what it's worth, I know how you feel. Boris is the same way with my dad and his girlfriend. He's always spending time with my dad and lusting after Xandra. It's annoying and disgusting!"

She remained silent, I assumed because I made it sound like I thought of Boris as my boyfriend or something, so I did the only thing I could to save the situation- invite her to meet them herself.

"Hey, speaking of, you introduced me to your folks, why don't I introduce you to mine?"

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! Please, it'd mean so much to me," I said, despite the fact that I was so very embarrassed of them.

"I'd like that," she said with a smile.

"Good. We'll talk details later."

"C'mere," she said, pulling me in for a bundle of kisses.

It was a night to remember for sure, but by the time Driver's Ed came around, I was glad to spend time with my best friend again, girlfriend-free.

"How's the sober life treating you, Pavlikovsky?" I whispered.

"Horrible! At least I steel hayve a dealer girlfriend I can count on een a dark time like thees."

"Oh, give me a break!" I said. "You're so dramatic…How am I even supposed to know whether you're telling the truth or not?"

"Becoz, we're brothers. You hayve my ward, Potter, remember?"

"Then prove it, Beer Breath," I said, pulling him by the shirt collar to see if I was right.

He seemed to be holding his end of the agreement just fine from what I could tell.

"Thees the kind ove thing you do weeth Arabelle?" he asked.

"Get outta here," I said, letting go and pushing his chest playfully. "Why are you even taking this class? You're old enough to drive!"

"Why do you think, Potter? Have you met me?"

"Well, yes, but still, I figured you would've at least made a fake one."

"And go to jail? No, I don't think so."

"It's never stopped you before…" I said as a matter-of-factly.

He rolled his eyes.

"Hey, you hayd that dinner weeth her parents last night, deedn't you?"

"Wow, you remembered! Yeah, yeah I did."

"How woz eet?"

"Great actually! Her parents are super cool!"

"Wot are they like?"

"They're really lovey dovey and great storytellers, not to mention incredibly talented!"

"Sounds like et! And I don't even have to ask eef they like you becoz thayse a given."

"Thanks, man. Means a lot."  
"Don't go all soft on me, Potter," he said with a flirty smile.

I too smiled.

While in the class, we learned about traffic signs, signals, markings, and right of way laws. The Driver's Ed instructor called us out at one point for talking too much, threatening to separate us, so we had to be more subtle about it if we planned to continue socializing, which, of course, we did.

We began passing notes as I recounted the larger-than-life proposal story. He had acted entirely unaffected and disinterested by this grand love story, in fact, he seemed a little disgusted, but I knew deep down that he wanted it like we all did. He just didn't think he was capable of it...or deserving.

When I told him that I needed to listen, he just sighed and laughed to himself as he drew and carved lude images and phrases into the desk.

His attitude was one that simply couldn't be cured. He kicked his feet up on the desks, making himself comfortable wherever he went. He threw spitballs at other classmates, mocked the teacher, anything to cure what could be cured- his boredom. He sure knew how to keep it interesting though, which was exactly why I kept him around, why I couldn't shake him- Because he was my kryptonite.

"Whatcha got for lunch?" I asked.

"Half a bologna sandweech and some pine nuts. You?"

"Turkey and egg salad on rye, Lays, an apple- Oh, and a Little Debbie Cosmic Brownie."

"You're seriously going to eat ole of that yourself, pipsqueak?"

"You calling me small?"

"Well, I'm not calling you beeg and buff," he said.

"Fuck you," I said, flipping him off for probably the thousandth time since I'd met him.

"You wish!" he said.

I rolled my eyes.

"You're a child."

"And you're kidding yourself eef you think you're going to eat ole of that!"

"Is this your way of asking for me to share it with you?"

"Maybe…"

"Good because that's why I asked what you had in the first place. It was either that or let you steal it like you always do."

"Sneaky littull devil you are, Potter."

"Well, it's no wonder why you're so underweight...that and the cigarettes! Wouldn't want you to starve."

"Seence when are you so concerned about my health?"

"What are you talking about? I've always been concerned."

"You hayve?"

"Yeah, I mean, you're always low on food in the fridge, so I want to make sure you're okay."

"You're oleways taking care of me, Potter. Wot would I do without you?"

"You'd probably be dealing crack at strip malls with your girlfriend...Oh wait- You already did do that!"

"Guess I hayd that one coming," he said, laughing.

"Ya think?!"

"Hey, you know wot'd make thees brownie even better?" he then asked.

"Oh brother," I said. "Where does it end!"

And once it started raining outside at the table which we normally sat at together, we moved to the indoor tables instead, much to our dismay. Unlike the tables outside, these were rectangular rather than circular, meaning that we'd have to sit with other people, and with other people we sat.

You see, there were these two guys named Dan and Malcolm that were inseparable, in fact, they were so inseparable that sometimes I thought they might have secretly been together, but years later I came to find that Dan had a very serious girlfriend, so I guess the mystery's solved there. He also turned out to be a lot more handsome than his high school self would have you believe, but that's besides the point. The point is that these kids, Dan and Malcolm, were quite the odd pair, always playing with their food at lunch instead of eating it and this particular time, Boris and I were the ones who paid the price for sitting alongside them that day.

Why am I talking about these two guys so much you ask? Well, let's just say that it involved an explosion of strawberry yogurt and leave it at that. Actually, let's not. Let's dive a little deeper, shall we? So, Dan and Malcolm were sitting side by side on the opposite side of the table, playing with their food, sticking their fingers inside the yogurt, and pulling them in and out. And they start making these really weird-ass faces and noises like "WAAAAA!" Next thing I knew, pink goo had spilt everywhere on the table and drenched Boris' hair. At first we just laughed hysterically, so unbelievably weirded out, but then we rushed to the boys' room to clean ourselves up.

*laughing continues*

*other boys stare*

"Americans are so fucking weird," he said.

"This can't simply be explained by a country, Boris. These are the workings of minds far more deranged and disturbed."

"I'm just going to pretend like I know wot deranged means."

"Look in the mirror, that'll give you your answer!"

"Hey, I may not know wot the damned word means, but I shore as hell know when I've been insulted!" he said, pushing me against the tile wall.

Shoving him back, close to his face, I said intensely:

"Well, I may be a pipsqueak, but I've got payback that goes on for miles."

"Payback for wot? That Snapchat conversation you got ole worked up over?"

"You bet your ass!"

"Eez thees a rivalry I'm sensing?"

"Only if you want it to be…"

"Wot eef I don't wunt et to be?"

"Then tell me what you want."

"Since when deed thees tarne into a Spice Girls song?"

"*laughs* I'm sorry, you know the Spice Girls?"

"Yeah, who doesn't!" he said, tossing his paper towel into the trashcan and walking out the door.

I shook my head and laughed.

I know I say it every time I talk about spending time with him ever since Kotku entered our lives, but I mean it. I missed him. I missed his annoyingly charismatic personality, his twisted mind games, his dirty jokes, just his presence in general! I don't even think feelings had anything to do with it. I was grieving the loss of my best friend, my brother, my lover, my everything.

I saw that he was walking home, as his dad refused to pick him up, claiming he was too busy with work. Who knows, maybe he actually was, but even if he wasn't, I doubt he'd be willing to come and get him. Anyhow, seeing that he had no ride and I had come by bike, I offered for him to join me.

"No, eet's okay, I'm fine," he said at first.

"Boris," I said firmly.

"Yeah, okay…" he said, giving in.

One minute we're sharing a bike and the next thing I know, we're sharing a car! Shockingly, Boris and I did not intend to do in-car together. It just somehow happened to work out that way! I actually thought that being with him instead of some random kid would make me feel better, safer even, but boy, was I wrong…

"Get ready, Potter," he said.

"Oh boy," I said.

Riding in a car with Boris was...How do I put this- Terrifying. If you thought he was already reckless, just wait till you're in a car with him! In Europe, he was used to vigorous lane-switching, no turn signals, and that pretty much summed up how he was as a driver himself. He would randomly speed up or slow down and sharply turn corners in a joking, rascal kind of way. He had some major road rage too, cursing under his breath at other drivers in Polish. Meanwhile, I clutched the grab handle practically the entire time, my teeth clenched with fear as our instructor had to use his own wheel and brakes sometimes to get us out of sticky situations.

I was a much calmer driver than him, so I passed with flying colors, but him, well, he took some extra convincing. Still, I wouldn't have had it any other way or any other person than him. He was a scary driver, but he was still my best friend, even when it didn't feel like it sometimes, even when we weren't on speaking terms, even without being as present in my life. Life with him was always one living on the edge. He pushed me out of my comfort zone, showed me that there was more and I straightened him out...well, in some ways.

Speaking of comfort zones, one night, after Arabelle and I had gone on yet another date, somewhat of a serious talk came up. Parked out in front of my house, we had made out for a while until it was time for me to go, but as we pulled away, her hand gripping my sweater, she said:

"Hey um, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to have sex with me?"

"Y-Yeah! Are you sure you're ready though?"

"Yeah, but are you sure you are? I mean, every time we're making out and things start to get remotely intimate, you always put the brakes on it."

"Well, if you're referring to just now, it's only because my parents could walk out of the house any minute since we're parked right in front of it. Other times, I genuinely just wasn't sure if you wanted me to go any further with you."

"I don't think that's the full story…" she said.

"Oh no, not this again...It's always the same fight."

"Yeah because it's always the same issue. Admit it, you still have feelings for Boris."

"No...Not anymore anyway. I may have before when it was just him and Kotku, but now I want this, I want you," I said, grabbing her arms. "*sighs* Tell you what, Xandra and my dad talked about possibly going out of town not too long for now. Why don't we do it then? The house will be empty, we'll have the whole place to ourselves."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I've been thinking about it too. We've been going out for more than a couple of months and now that we're exclusive and all, I think we're ready."

"I do too," she said, kissing me again before we parted ways.

It was true, I had been thinking about it. How could I not! Arabelle was beautiful and wonderful and all things good. She was good for me unlike Boris, and I was ready to put this love triangle nonsense behind me once and for all.

It wasn't long after that that Boris and I both got our permits. You see, after hours and hours of logging our driving, well, actually, that's a lie. My dad thought it was a waste of time to log that many hours when he could just as easily make them up and sign off on it. I made an effort anyway though, for the experience and the practice. But Boris definitely made his up, no question about that. Soon enough though, he was able to go ahead and take the driver's test to get his license since he was of age. And somehow, by the grace of god, he did it, passed I mean. He had somehow managed to get his own car too. I was a little skeptical about the means he used to get it. Did he steal it? Did he find it in a junkyard? Did he buy it with his own money? Did he borrow it from his dad? I really wasn't sure, but I figured the less I knew, the better. And our first time riding in it together, I came prepared, helmet and all.

"Where's your bike?" he asked.

"Nowhere. I didn't bring it with me."

"Wot do you mean you deedn't bring eet weeth you?"

"Well, Boris, I hate to break it to you, but you're not exactly the smoothest driver!"

"Oh, ees that reelee necessary?"

"Safety first!" I said, buckling my seatbelt and holding on for dear life.

He rolled his eyes.

During that car ride, he asked more about Arabelle, so I filled him in on what was going on between us.

"You're going to sleep...weeth a girl?!"

"Yeah, why not?" I asked. "And it's not just any girl. This is Arabelle we're talking about here."

"My my, Potter, I thought thees day would nayver come..."

"Ouch!" I said.

"You know I'm just messing weeth you," he said. "But hayve you bought them yet?"

"Bought what?" I asked.

"The condoms, you idiot!"

"Oh shit, you're right. Can we stop by the drug store real quick?"

"*laughs* Shore, but the advice is free, just so you know," he said with a wink.

"What if I don't want your help?" I asked.

"Oh, you will!" he so arrogantly said.

Turns out, he knew his stuff...No surprise there. I felt a little more confident with the female anatomy after having him talk me through it, though I still felt a little weird about taking sex advice from the only other person I'd slept with. Somehow, I felt like maybe that could really backfire on me, but then again, Boris was on my team, so why would he sabotage me?

Riding in his car, we took this opportunity to go out and do all kinds of fun things now that we had the transportation to get there. Of course, the car aided his ability to hang out with Kotku more than it did anything else and I saw a lot less of him because of that, but for the first few days or so, it was just the two of us.

And one "close one" after another, I couldn't help but say to him:

"How you passed your driver's test…I will never know!"


	10. Blood Run Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so literally half of this chapter is just about the history of the painting, but I did A LOT of research on it and wanted to put it to good use. Plus, I just thought this would be a really tense, interesting situation for Theo to find himself in. Sorry if it bores you though. Oddly enough, I myself am not a history person, so I get it. Speaking of school though, I have AP exams coming up next week, so I will definitely not be writing as much. I hope to get back to it immediately after that though. Just a heads up, but enjoy! :)

Before I knew it, my dad and Xandra were already leaving to go out of town, so I panicked. I stalled, calling Mr. Atwood to see about going to sit in on one of his lectures instead. I knew that wouldn't blow over well with Arabelle, but I had to do something.

"Alright, students. I trust that you all had a good weekend. *pauses* Today we're going to be talking a little bit about the Dutch Golden Age, illusionary techniques such as trompé-l'œil, and the tragic death of a remarkable painter. And all of what I just mentioned can be connected to one single painting."

I was intrigued already.

*picture appears on screen*

You've gotta be shitting me!

"This here is The Goldfinch by Carel Fabritius, signed and dated 1654."

Fuck. Don't panic, it's just a dream. Pinch yourself.

"Carel Fabritius was a Dutch Baroque painter of portraits depicting everyday life, ordinary people, and even more narrative subjects like this one right here. His use of light and space was very influential among the mid-17th century school of Delft. The Goldfinch is one of the few works we know by him, but even so, the painting was lost for more than two centuries before its rediscovery in Brussels."

It's already been lost once before? My god, what am I going to do!

"Now, the reason I chose this painting was because it was recently stolen, stolen from the Metropolitan Museum of art and I think it's important that we take these current events to heart. Why let a moment like this pass us by when we could take this opportunity to our advantage and learn about it, right?"

No, not right. Doesn't he realize the connection it has to me? That day, the day my mother was killed, the day he damn well knows about. Of course, he doesn't know the real reason I turned white as a sheet, or the overwhelming guilt that made my blood run cold. I know that no one else knew what was going through my head but me, but it still didn't feel right. How could I listen to this painting's history when I was it's thief? Or was that precisely the reason I needed to hear it because it was in my possession, it was my mother's favorite painting, and now it was...mine?

"So, let's dive right into it, shall we? *clears throat* The Dutch Golden Age lasted a full decade between the 16th and 17th century, but more specifically, it took place between the years 1575 and 1675. Now, what makes this painting so interesting is the simplicity of its composition. This is something fairly peculiar to see at this point in art history, but what's even stranger about it is its use of illusionary techniques. *breathes* The painting shows a life-size European goldfinch atop a blue feeding box with a lid, enclosed by two wooden half-rings fixed to a white wall. The bird is perched on the upper ring, though bound by a fine chain. Such a simple concept of being trapped, yet one that we can all relate to without anymore being said about or told of its story. And I think we can all agree that the brushwork is just so lovely, I mean, you can practically see the downiness of his feathers."

I was trapped in that moment, trapped like that very bird, clinging to a perch by an everbounding chain. I couldn't look away, I couldn't run. It was like a car crash, everything happening in slow motion right before my very eyes but all beyond my control. He then went on to say:

"The way in which the strokes were made makes it seem as if the bird is alive. It has this lifelike quality to it that gives you reason to believe it will take flight at any moment, but that the chain will hold it back and restrict it from movement of any kind. And that is the exact purpose Fabritius had intended on accomplishing through this magnificent display of illusionism known as trompe-l'œil, a technique that has been known since ancient times. And if you want to get more into the specifics, the bold strokes of bright colors above and lighter touches of duller colors below not only shorten the head, but also highlight the rings and bird's feet and create strong shadows on the plastered wall. This blend of colors in the diffuse shadow seems to have foreshadowed some of the techniques of 19th century French Impressionists and Post-Impressionist artists as well, according to art historian Andrew Graham-Dixon. Fabritius' paintings are even believed to have influenced artists as renowned as Johannes Vermeer, although there is no real evidence for this."

I felt so exposed, so frightened. I started to experience a shortness of breath like I sometimes did after one of my night terrors, so I took a detour to the bathroom just to calm myself down. I quietly got up, taking my time and trying my hardest not to cause any disruptions among the class. Walking down the halls, however, I could still hear the echoes of his lecture coming from the auditorium. Throughout my exiting, I heard him say:

"Though studying under Rembrandt, Fabritius developed a style that was independent of his teacher's. However, The Goldfinch shares a lot in common with Jacopo de' Barbari's 'Still-Life with Partridge and Gauntlets,' but even more so with his painting 'A Sparrowhawk.' Painted in the 1510s, 'A Sparrowhawk' depicts a bird sitting on a perch which it is chained to and uses a lot of similar techniques in regards to the neutral, tan, and brown colors in the bird and the creation of the shadow against a lighter wall. And in case you were wondering about the symbolism of the bird itself, not a sparrowhawk, but a goldfinch rather, they were a fairly popular pet during this time period that-"

At first, I paced around in the bathroom like the anxious wreck that I was until other people started coming in and out, shooting me looks. So, I ducked into a stall, my back against the wall, and sunk to my feet. I clutched at my knees for comfort and hopefully relief. Then I later returned in the middle of his recounting the painter's life.

"But just to give you a brief history about the artist himself, Carel Pietersz Fabritius was born in 1622 in Middenbeemster in the Dutch Republic where he initially worked as a carpenter. However, his father and brothers were all painters whom he learned from. He had relocated to Amsterdam in 1641 to study under Rembrandt, but after his wife died, he moved back home, where he lived until the early 1650s. He then moved to Delft, where he joined the Guild of Saint Luke in 1652. Unfortunately, Fabritius died at the age of 32 in a tragic accident known as 'the explosion of the Delft gunpowder magazine' on October 12, 1654. This accident killed over a hundred people and left at least a third or quarter of the city in ruins, including his studio, where many of his paintings lied, and supposedly The Goldfinch too. This explosion actually served as inspiration for another painting, 'A View of Delft After the Explosion of 1654' by Egbert van der Poel. The blast was loud enough to be heard 93 miles away and involved a 90,000 pound cache of gunpowder, destroying around 200 houses. And according to the New Netherland Institute, 'some believed that it was the end of the world, with the Gates of Hell opening and God's wrath raining down on the town.'"

It was close, too close. For most people in this country, the only day that brought terrorist attacks to their attention was, of course, 9/11. For me, there were three: 9/11, the day I myself was among one, and now October 12, the day that the painter of the painting I stole was killed in an explosion. And soon enough, memories started to creep through my mind like a baby learning to crawl, slowly and then all at once. So rampant and disturbing they were, those dusty remnants of destruction followed by the blaring sirens and pounding rain, her blanketed body being carted away in the ambulance...

It was always those same images flashing through my head. I never knew why, but they stuck with me the most, that and the last glance of my mother I ever took. I was a prisoner of painful thought, chained to it like a bird. I hadn't realized until now how close the goldfinch was to me and I was to the goldfinch. Or maybe I wasn't attached to it, but rather it was attached to me. Maybe I was the perch. I think I liked that answer better.

The pressure, the pressure...From Welty, from the police, from Lucius, from Mr. Atwood, from my dead mother herself- It was unbearable. If it wasn't clear already, by then, I had left the lecture. It was just too much, so I skipped out while I still could. The two of us had agreed to have lunch on campus afterward, which I thought was very thoughtful of him, and though it felt wrong to leave without an explanation, I was too scared to stay and instead ran off, taking the bus home.

Initially, I rushed inside the house in complete panic mode. But being at home, where I thought the painting was, I somehow felt a little safer, though not entirely. A part of me still felt so uneasy and I didn't quite know what to do with myself. I had never kept this big of a secret in my entire life, but then again, a secret was never truly a secret if someone else was in on it. So, I turned to the only person I knew, or at least thought I could trust- Boris. When he didn't pick up the phone, I figured it was because he was out with Kotku, which he, of course, he was.

It was a school day, and Arabelle and I were originally going to cut class to see each other, that was until she heard that I was coming to hear her dad's lecture, of course. I still cut anyway after the lecture though, too freaked out by this whole thing. After receiving a phone call from her dad, however, Arabelle decided to cut school herself last minute. I later answered the door to find her in sweats, on my doorstep, completely unannounced.

"Arabelle, what are you doing here?"

"Theo, we need to talk…"

"*sighs* Your dad told you about what happened, didn't he?"

"Well, yeah, of course he was going to tell me. But are you okay?"

"Not really. That just kind of brought up some bad memories for me."

"I get it," she said, putting her hand on mine.

"Is that all you came here to talk about?" I asked, knowing the true answer.

"No actually...I think we need to talk about what happened to our plans to get together while your parents were away…"

"Well, they weren't set in stone or anything…" I so poorly argued.

"No, they weren't set in stone, but they were implied! C'mon, Theo, what really happened?"

"What do you think? I got nervous."

"Well, I know for a fact you're not a virgin, so why were you so nervous?"

"Because...you're beautiful and older and I don't know what you're doing with a fool like me."

"Is that really how you feel?" she asked.

"Sometimes, yeah."

"Theo, *sighs* I'm with you because you're a good guy. We have so much in common, you and I, and you're always keeping me on my toes."

"I know, but sometimes it just-"

"It's just what?"

"It just isn't enough…"

"Then what is?" she asked.

*shrugs*

"Look, I don't know where this is coming from all of a sudden, but I don't care about that right now. You need to make this up to my dad. You owe him an explanation."

"I know, you're right…"

"Good. Guess, I'll see you around then," she said.

"So what? Is that it? Are we through? Where does this leave us?"

"*sighs* I don't know...I guess we could have a do-over of what today was supposed to be about."

"Really? You'd do that?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, I think we're both a little on edge today, but maybe if we both cool down a bit we could...sometime soon."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

"I'm still not done with being mad at you though."

"I know," I said. "I'm sorry."

"It's whatever. Just give Popper a squeeze for me, okay?"

"*laughs* Will do. *long pause* Wait- What's your dad doing for lunch?" I asked.

"*turns around, smiles* I was hoping you'd ask that," she said. "C'mon, I'll take you to him."

"Sweet," I said, following her to the car.

I was reluctant to approach him at first. I was embarrassed to say the least, but luckily there were no hard feelings, well, not with us at least…

"Hi there," he said.

"Hey…" I said, staring at the ground.

"So, that was quite the disappearance act you pulled there," he joked.

"I'm sorry. This was a bad idea...Maybe I just should go…" I said, getting up.

"Nice try, Mister," said Arabelle, grabbing my arm.

"No. Wait, Theo! Please, let me buy you some lunch. It's the least I could do," her dad said.

I nodded.

"Okay. Thank you."

"Sure," he said. "C'mon, I'll show you to the cafeteria. And Bella, we'll be talking about this later, young lady."

"I know, that's why I'm going to head out so I can get cracking on my homework and get ahead to make up for the classes I've missed today."

"A wise choice," he said.

"Sorry, love you, *kisses cheek* bye!"

"Love you too," he said, sincerely, no longer stern.

I waved at her as she left.

Mr. Atwood taught at University of Nevada, Las Vegas. It was okay, but I definitely preferred NYU. My mother had taken me there once. It was her dream for me to go there, as it was mine.

Once we got to Hazel M. Wilson Dining Commons, I walked through the buffet and got a burger with fries, then through the salad bar to scope out a healthier side option. And after we sat down and had satisfied our hunger enough, our stomachs were no longer rumbling, we got to the matter that had brought us here in the first place- my unannounced absence.

"Look, Theo, I know why you cut and run back there."

"You do?"

"Yeah, because it was in the museum the day it happened, wasn't it?"

"Oh yeah, right. Right."

"I want you to know, I didn't pick that out for your sake. I never meant to isolate you or put you under the microscope like that...It just happened to be a current event that I took interest in and wanted to explain the history behind, but it didn't occur to me how it was connected to you when I chose it, honest!"

"I know you didn't. Honestly, sir, it's my fault for leaving the premises. I'm sorry if I caused a scene."

"No, you're perfectly fine, Theo. All is forgiven. I'm not sure many people noticed anyway."

"Good," I said.

"Is there anything else I can do? I just want to eliminate any pain that it may have caused you."

"Yeah actually. I know that I skipped out on the lecture, and for a reason too, but what you had to say about the painting was really interesting to me. Could you maybe retell some of the parts I missed out on?"

"Of course."

"Really? *smiles* Thanks," I said. "So, what does the goldfinch symbolize?"

"Well, goldfinches were fairly popular pets during the time Fabritius was alive. They could be taught simple tricks, such as lifting a thimble-sized bucket of water, but symbols-wise, they're recognized as a bringer of good health."

"Huh! And where did that idea come from?"

"Now, that I don't know myself, but I can tell you that it was used in Italian Renaissance painting as a symbol of Christian redemption and the Passion of Jesus. Are you familiar with the painting 'Madonna Litta'?"

"I think so...Isn't that the one by Leonardo da Vinci?"

"Yep, that's the one."

"That has a goldfinch in it?"

"Yes, baby Jesus is shown holding onto it. It's very hard to notice though unless you take a closer look at it."

"Well, I'm usually very observant, but it has been a long time since I've seen it. I guess my eye just went elsewhere in the painting."

"It likely did. The focal point of the painting is meant to be Christ himself sucking on Mary's teat, so that's probably where your eye went," he said with a laugh.

I too laughed.

"But the bird is also associated with fertility in some cases. It was pictured next to a naked couple in one particular painting, so that's likely where that comes from."

"Interesting…"

"And let's see...Did you get to hear about its restoration and what art historians concluded about its original structure? Or about the French art adviser?"

"Nope, none of that."

"Well, when The Goldfinch was restored in 2003, details of its physical structure emerged. Because it was composed of lead-based paint, traditional X-rays and infrared were out of the question and wouldn't have accurately been able to see what was below the paint barrier, but luckily, chief conservator Jorgen Wadum was able to use a CT scanner to digitally remove it and see what was beneath."

"And what did they find?"

"Well, the panel it was painted on was atypically deep for a small painting, indicating that it may have been part of a larger piece of wood, or more specifically, a window jamb or a hinged protective cover for another wall-mounted painting. An art historian by the name of Linda Stone-Ferrier came to this conclusion because windows were very important as picture settings among the Dutch Golden Age and were even used as perspective boxes to create more realistic interiors, adding to the painting's illusion of a real perched bird for those that walked by."

"Wow, that's-"

"Boring?" he asked.

"*laughs* No, but I guess just not as interesting as the other things you told me today now that you mention it."

"Okay, I'll impress you then: By the 19th century, The Goldfinch ended up in the possession of a Danish nobleman in Brussels, where it was then discovered by French art adviser Theophile Torre. The painting being in his possession, he instantly found himself possessed by the work. In letters, his determination to receive it upon the nobleman's passing was clear. He later displayed it in a successful exhibition alongside work by Vermeer, but still preferred to isolate the painting in all its glory. And according to van Suchtelen, the admirer even spent the last waking moments of his life staring at the painting. Now how's that for a story?" he asked.

"What a lovely way to go," I said, imagining what life would be like if I somehow held onto the painting long enough to be able to do the same.

"Truthfully," he agreed.

"What painting would you want to be the last you lay your eyes on before you die?"

"Ooh, good question…" he said. "Hmm, probably...Michelangelo's 'The Creation of Adam,' I assume. What about you?"

I froze. Of course, I couldn't say the painting because then he might suspect that I was, in fact, its thief, so I went with the next best thing.

"Probably 'The Anatomy Lesson.' It was um, *scratches head* it was the last painting my mother saw before she died, but it was damaged in the attack, so that wouldn't technically be possible unless it was a copy of it. Duplicate or not, I don't think that would change my decision."

"That's a great one, but an even better reason for it too. There's something so beautiful about wanting the same thing for yourself that a loved one once had."

"Thank you," I said with a humble smile.

"For everything!" I continued. "For today and for everything you've done for me. You've been so kind, really."

"Of course, Theo. My daughter picked a good one."

"I appreciate it," I said, smiling once again.

After lunch, Mr. Atwood gave me a ride home and I thanked him again. Then, around 9 pm or so, Boris texted me, asking if he could come by because he really needed to talk to someone. This was unusual behavior for him. Boy friendships are different from girls' in the sense that we don't tell each other everything, but then again, Boris and I never really had a typical friendship to begin with. We were really each other's only support system other than the girls that we dated, so when he said he needed to talk to someone, I knew he wasn't messing around and I knew it was important.

I ran it by my dad first, then told him that he could come on over. I was going to wait until he came to the door to go downstairs, as I was in the middle of re-watching a show we both liked at the time, but then my heart started to beat a little faster. The anticipation was making me anxious, both for him and myself. Not knowing what it was going to be like or how bad the situation was, I shut off the tv and went downstairs to wait by the door.

All of a sudden, I saw him standing there through the window, waving at me. He startled me and I even told him this as I opened the door for him. Then, right off the bat, he pulled me in for a hug. It was a little weird, but I didn't think much of it and certainly wasn't opposed to it either. Afterall, it wasn't completely out of the ordinary for us.

Chin over his shoulder, I said:

"I'm so glad you're here, man...I've had the craziest day and there's something I need to tell you too."

But just as I started to pull away from the hug, I felt this unexpected resistance coming from him. I could tell that he didn't want to let go, so I just kept hugging him and rubbing his shoulder.

Boris wasn't one to cry. In fact, I hadn't seen him cry once in all of the time that I'd known him. He was a tough guy, definitely not as sensitive or fragile as I was, but still just as vulnerable and now I saw that, as I felt him start to cry over my shoulder. I could hear him sniffling, I could feel him trying to catch his breath, as well as a tear or two on my shoulder. I never thought the day would come that I'd see Boris Pavlikovsky cry, but even if I did, I'd assumed that he was probably going to wait to let it all out once we were in my room. But this, this was different. This was a woe so deep that he couldn't even bear to hide behind his smile.

My parents were in the room with us, watching some trashy tv show at the time and I could tell that even they were concerned and sympathetic, though silent. I think, really, they were more weirded out than anything else, but that was mainly coming from Xandra. My dad actually liked Boris, cared about him even, sometimes more than he did me it felt like...

I just stood there and embraced him, thinking about how much I loved him and wished he would feel better, hoping that these thoughts would somehow make the hug healing in a way. Other times, I thought about nothing and just tried to be in the moment. But once I started to feel his hands slide farther apart, I let mine do the same and eventually let go, asking him if he wanted to go to my room. He tearfully nodded.

Once we entered my room, I told him he could sit wherever he wanted. Sitting on my bed, he then said: "So much shit has happened." He told me that recently, things had escalated between him and his dad ever since he caught him in bed with Kotku. He started saying crazy shit like how his father was threatening to either send him to military school or disown him. So, I talked him through some things and asked him questions. I even offered to have him stay over night because he had brought his backpack with him and kept mentioning how he didn't want to go home, not feeling comfortable there. I told him that I would need to talk to my parents about it and asked if I could talk to them in private for a few minutes. Then I asked if it was even okay to mention it to them. Turns out, he was fine with it, as long as they didn't know about military school or the disowning part. I left him in the kitchen with the glass of water I poured, then walked into the living room to explain everything and navigate this difficult situation.

"Boris needs to spend the night. It's his dad again. I know it's a lot to ask, but I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important," I said to them.

After about 10 minutes of hashing things out, I came back to Boris and told him that he could stay as long as he called his dad to let him know where he was and that he was okay. If he wasn't comfortable with that, they had offered to do it for him, and frankly, I was impressed by how well they handled this situation, though I knew not to get used to it. Boris was hesitant at first to contact his dad and I hated to ask that of him, but I knew it was necessary and for his own good. And besides, he was still going to be able to spend the night with me as long as his dad agreed to that, which he did, despite him having feared his dad's reaction.

I sat there as they talked on the phone, wondering what was going on, wondering what the hell they could possibly be saying. I didn't understand a word of it, but based it off of his facial expressions alone until I could get actual details out of him. I was shocked to find that his dad gave him the okay, but even though I know for a fact he didn't like me, I guess he couldn't deny the fact that I was the closest thing to a good influence on Boris and that maybe I'd even rub off on him a little and change the way things had been.

After that was settled, we went back to my room, exchanging stories of when our parents forgot us at school.

"Eet's happened quite a few times, I'm not going to lie, but I was smart enough to start taking the bus instead. Shore, eet's loud and nasty, but eet's something."

"It's only happened to me like once, but that was when my mother was still living and my parents were back together. My mom left my dad in charge of picking me up when her hands were tied. Big mistake…"

He laughed, then said:

"Thanks, Potter...for everything."

"Of course," I said with a smile.

"I would've asked Kotku, but she's oleready got so much on her plate that she's been dealing weeth that I didn't want to be a burden to her. And besides, I oleready lived weeth her for like a month just to get away from my dad."

"You didn't tell me that!"

"Well, eet's true."

"And her mom was okay with that?"

"Fine with et! She's not very responsible," he said, with a laugh, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Well, I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," I said.

"*playfully hits* Hey, wot woz your thing anyway?"

"What do you mean my thing?"

"Wotever you were going to tail me earlier, before I threw thees on you."

"Oh right! Okay, so get a load of this: Arabelle's dad offered for me to come sit in on one of his lectures, but I went behind Arabelle's back and asked if I could come today when we already had plans to...you know-"

"Ouch, Potter! Wot hayppened?"

"I don't know, I guess I got too in my head about it all, but there's more…"

"Ohhh boy!" he said.

"Oh boy's right! *pauses* So, I'm at the lecture, right? And then all of a sudden, I see the painting across the screen."

"Wot painting?"

*gives him look*

"Oh...That painting," he said.

"Yeah! So, naturally, I panicked once he started talking about it. I went to the bathroom once just to calm down, but then when I came back, he started going on about how Fabritius, its painter, was killed in an explosion too and how the painting likely survived that explosion and then my head just started spinning and I-"

His hand slapped mine lightly but audibly in a grab.

"Eet's okay, Potter. You're not going to get coat."

"I know, but it's still just so much to carry, you know?"

"I know," he said.

"Anyway, but then Arabelle showed up-"

"Here?"

"Yeah."

"Was she pissed?"

"Oh yeah! Big time."

"So wot happened then?"

"We kind of had a relationship talk, but I'm still not quite sure where that leaves us or if we'll recover from it."

"Send her roses," he said softly.

"What?"

"Send her roses! Weeth a card."

"That's very...romantic of you…" I said, weirded out.

"Wot? Eet's classy. She'll like that."

"Maybe you're right…*sighs, falls onto bed* But when she came over, she was talking about how I needed to make things right with her dad, which I liked. I liked that she was so firm and protective of her family like that, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah I do," he said, looking at me, his only family.

"And long story short, she ended up taking me back to the university to have lunch with her dad like he and I had originally planned, but when we were having lunch, there was this one moment when he told me about this man who had admired the painting so much that he spent his last moments in life looking at it and then he asked me which painting I'd want to spend my last moments looking at. But that was cutting it close because if I hadn't lied and said the painting itself, he might've had reason to believe that it was, in fact, me who stole it."

"Aww, man, I weesh I could've seen that," he said with a laugh.

"It's not funny! That could've been my death sentence!"

"Okay, you're right, maybe it wasn't funny, but you are…"

I smiled and said nothing.

"You sure you haven't been drinking?" I then asked.

"Nope. Not a drop! But I might be a littull high steel," he said, giggling.

"Idiot," I said, laughing, giving him a shove.

"So, wot now?"

"I don't know, I'm kinda beat…"

"Yeah, me too...Unless you wunna play video games for a bit and then I'm game," he said with a wink.

"Yeah, actually, that sounds fun. What game do you wanna play?"

"GTA?"

"Which one?"

"The Ballad of Gay Tony?"

"Yeah, sure," I said with a smile.

And together we played, laughing at the hilarity of the game's storyline. The writers for it were so good.

But as it started getting later, I turned to him and said:

"You know, it's weird...We haven't had a sleepover in a long time."

"Sleepover?" *laughs* Wot are you, a girl?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to call it?"

"I don't know, but they're more accidental than they are on purpose. More like...hangovers."

"Guess that's a fair statement...But what does that make tonight? A soberover?"

"Yes, see, you're learning!" he said, pinching my cheek.

I laughed.

Then he started taking off his shirt…

"*panicks in gay* What-What are you doing?"

"Wot does eet look like I'm doing, Potter? I'm getting ready for bed!"

"Oh, right. Yeah, I should too…It is getting pretty late for a school night," I said, pulling my shirt over my head.

"Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"We could skeep tomorrow."

"Oh, I don't know...I already missed class today."

"Oh, c'mon, Potter, just you and me, for old times' sake. One more day's not going to hurt your squeaky clean record."

"Just us?"

"Just us."

"Alright, I'm in."

"Good. Goodnight, Potter."

"Goodnight, Boris."

Believe me, I know Boris might as well have been the little devil on my shoulder, but he made me feel normal, like I wasn't the freak who lost my mom in a bombing. And that's why I wasn't about to turn down an offer to spend time with him. Any time with him was time well spent.

And after everything that happened that day, as I'm sure you can imagine, my night terrors were increasingly worse. Lucky for me, my bed was no longer empty. Welcome back, old friend, I said in my head as he pulled me close and we drifted off in one another's arms...


	11. Gotta Blame It On Our Juice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So sorry I've been gone so long. I just got done with exam week and am trying to get my motivation back on track. I also just graduated and have been very involved with BLM on social media and in signing petitions and donating. Plus, I kept continuously adding onto this chapter and taking my long-ass time, lol. But I've gotten some really nice feedback on A03 and Wattpad recently. It feels good to know that I'm doing something right with this story, considering the fact that this one doesn't have as many readers and The Goldfinch doesn't exactly have a "fandom." We're more like groupies, I'd say, lol. Anyway, keep it up because I'd love to hear from you! Hope you enjoy this one :)

"Well, Boris, we did it. We went sober for a whole two weeks. You think you'd ever do it again?"

"Thank GODE! No, nayver again!" he said. "Those were the longest two weeks ove my LIFE!"

"You are a piece of work, Boris Pavlikovsky!"

"*laughs* So, wot are we doing tonight?"

"Oh, actually, I have plans…"

"Oh, with who?"

*raises eyebrows*

"Oh, so you two are taking a trip to pound town, huh?"

"Eww, don't ever say that again…"

"Doing the hanky panky?"

"No! Absolutely not!"

"Bedroom rodeo?"

"What has gotten into you?"

"Bow-chicka-bow-wow."

*wheezes*

"What about bushwacking?"

"Nope!"

"Going balls-deep then?"

"Still no!

"You gonna tap that ass doe?"

"Stop it, I can't BREATHE!"

"How 'bout…*waves hand in air* making a magical sandweech?"

"I'm utterly disgusted…You somehow managed to make sex sound like the least romantic thing ever."

"Romance eez overrated anyway..." he said. "Eet's too restricting for me and you of ole peepull know I don't like to play et safe..."

"You sure do like your freedom…"

"Oh, you hayve no idea!"

"But that just sounds like an excuse not to be vulnerable with someone, if you ask me…"

"You think eet's coz I'm scared?! No, I just don't fuck with clichés and ole ove that fluffy shit."

"No, I know that. I know Valentine's gifts and grand gestures aren't really your style. It's just not who you are."

"Yeah, becoz they're stupid. They make me wanna gag!"

"That's just 'cause you're cold and heartless."

"Hey, who asked you!"

"I'm just teasing you."

"I can take a joke, Potter. But you know, weeth the right person...maybe that'd change."

"You think Kotku's that person?" I asked, seriously wanting to know.

"No, definitely not...She feels the same way about et that I do. Wot about you? Do you think Arabelle's that person?"

"Maybe, I don't know. I try to be romantic some of the time."

"So you like to impress her, huh?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, eet woz just an observation…"

"Was it now?"

"Eet woz," he said firmly, then sighing and saying:

"Eef anything changes though, you'll tail me, right?"

"Why would anything change?"

"I don't know, just worst cayse scenario, that's ole I'm saying."

"You don't think this'll last, do you? That's what this is about."

"No, I don't. I think you're pretending to be someone you're not."

"Who I am then? Who am I pretending to be?"

"I don't know, just not you. Not Potter, not Theo."

"Well, you know what I think?"

"Wot? Wot do you think?"

"I think you're scared, scared that you could like someone that's not a girl. Scared of what people would think. Scared to admit any of it."

"Then wot does that make you, huh Potter? Saying that doesn't eggzackly make you look any bayter, I'm afraid."

"That's fair...But who said I liked you anyway?"

"No one, eet's just an observation," he so coyly said.

"Cocky son of a bitch…" I mumbled under my breath.

"I'm sorry, woz there something you'd like to share weeth the class?" he seriously joked.

"No, that's not necessary."

"Oh, I think eetease!" he said, slurring his words together.

"I said I'm good."

Boris and I, it was as if we were both putting on some grand facade in one big show of deception. Sure, we were with other people, but it was all a little game. It was like whatever we had was on hold, yet never truly ended. Things were awkward and bitter and cold between us. There was tension. Every time we were alone together, it was a question of our relationship status, like who we were with somehow defined us and held us back from what could be. Our story was just this continuous, infinite cycle of reckless wanting. We let substances guide our hearts -and other areas- to places we never thought we'd reach as friends.

"*sighs* Aren't you tired of this, Boris? We're letting these stupid girls come between us! They're putting a strain on our friendship!"

He said nothing, but I could tell that the answer was yes. He was clearly hurting.

"*scoffs* Listen, I tried to reason with you, but I gotta go...I'm already late."

"Fine. Fuck her! See if I care…"

It felt like a big moment, leaving him to be with her. I don't know why, and yet, I do. Because Boris was one to be unpredictable at times...especially when those times involved Arabelle. I never knew whether or not he was going to encourage me or resent me for moving things forward with her. But as immature as he was acting, I understood his internalized homophobia because I had it too. It was like I could be so accepting, I could think that everyone should love and be with who they wanted to until it came to myself, and then I actually started to care about what other people thought.

On my way, I texted Arabelle.

Good because the house is empty. See you soon…

I gulped and the next thing I knew, we were already taking things to the next level.

"Theo, you know, there's a reason I wanted to do this with you…"

"Oh yeah? Why, to burn calories?"

"*giggles* No, you dork...because I love you!"

Honestly didn't see that one coming, but it totally shook up my mindset going into this.

"You do?" I asked.

Great move, dumbass, I thought to myself.

"Yes," she said, nodding.

Then I kissed her, filling the silence, because though flattered, I was not quite there myself. Still though, people always act like it doesn't sting when the other person doesn't say it back and sometimes, it really doesn't matter to them, but I could tell that to Arabelle, it did.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing, nothing, *kisses*" I said.

"Theo, what is it? Really?"

"I just- I'm thinking, that's all."

"Oh yeah? About what?"

"What happened at the lecture that day..."

"Really? You're thinking about my dad right now?"

"No, no, well, kinda...*sighs* I just- I made a fool of myself then and I guess I'm afraid that I will now too."

"Theo, dear sweet, Theo- *holds cheeks, shakes head* Get over yourself," she said, containing me in a kiss covered by her curtains of hair.

I pulled away, looking at her.

"Are you sure?"

"*nods* Are you ready?"

"I will be...soon."

"Is it not uh-"

"No, almost," I said.

"Here, let me move things along then…" she said, macking on my neck.

But it was then that I realized my true desire, what had been holding me back this entire time: him. There he was, images in my brain, haunting me and taunting me, and suddenly I was ready in a way I wasn't with her. It wasn't just him though, I had had my doubts about Arabelle already, beyond her not being Boris. You see, there comes a time in every relationship where one starts to doubt and question what one has and I had hit that point. She knew what normalcy was like in a way I never would, she was immune to the chaotic life that had become second nature to me. Arabelle, perfect in every way and yet too perfect it seemed. Believe it or not, there is such a thing.

"*sighs* You're not into this are you?" she asked.

I shook my head with shame.

"I can tell. You're holding back tears."

"I thought that if I could just get over this crush, then I didn't have anything to worry about, but it's harder than I thought. I was lying to myself, I was lying to you, really to everyone I knew, but I can't do that anymore. It's not fair and it's not right. You deserve someone who knows what they want and clearly, I don't. Sometimes when I'm with you, I'm all in, and other times, I feel so confused about what I want and who I want it with."

*sniffles, starts to cry*

"Arabelle, please don't cry...God, I feel like such an asshole."

"Yeah, you should! You made me give you a chance when I knew I was the one who'd end up getting hurt, then you made me fall for you, and now you're making me break up with you," she said, counting on her fingers.

"I didn't make you do anything!"

"Still, you knew this wouldn't last, yet you still let it happen."

"I didn't know any more than you did."

"Whatever. Just get the fuck out of here, Theo...I'm DONE!"

"Wow, Happy Break-Up to you too…"

"I mean it!"

"Fine, I'm going…" I said, slipping on my clothes.

"Oh and take your stupid book too," she said, shoving the stolen Fellowship of the Ring book against my chest. "I wish I could say it was just as disappointing as you, but it was actually really good..."

"Arabelle..."

"I don't want anything to do with you, Theo! I'm already hurt enough as it is! Now please, just take it and go."

I nodded, straightening my glasses on the bridge of my nose as I walked out the door. But even still, I couldn't get him out of my head, so I let my heart guide the way to his house and climbed through his window once I arrived.

"Hey…"

"Potter, thees es a nice surprise…Wozn't thinking you'd show. But hey, how deed et go?"

"It didn't."

"Why not? Wot hayppened?"

"We broke up instead…"

"Oh, Potter…How come? No pun intended."

"Hah! Yeah right...Okay, promise me you won't laugh?"

"I promise, Potter."

"I couldn't get the...*sighs* tent up."

*snorts*

"You promised!"

"I deedn't laugh, I snorted."

*stares*

"Okay, now I'm laughing," he said.

*sighs*

"But hey, hey, Potter, eet's okay. Eet hayppens, et does."

"Even to you?"

"Oh no, not to me, but guys een general, yes."

"What makes you so special?"

"Wouldn't you like to know!"

I rolled my eyes.

"Well, Potter, our two weeks are ope. Shall we crack open a bottle of vodka, wine, or whatever else we've got lying around here?"

"Yeah, I could really use a drink right about now actually."

"No keeding!" he said with a laugh.

Our glasses now more than half full, he raised his to mine, saying:

"Lez make toast! To the newly single and the end of abstinence," he said.

"Cheers to that!"

But chaos ensued at the flush of a toilet…

"Is someone else here?" I asked, my instincts starting to kick in.

"Oh yeah, uh about that…I may have coled Kotku when I deedn't think you were cahming."

"You what?" I asked, feeling like I'd been played.

"Ugh, what is he doing here?" she asked.

"Kotku, be nice…"

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" she asked.

"I was just leaving," I said.

"Oh no, don't stop on my account! The party's only just begun, right Boris?"

"Yeah! Why don't you join us, honey?"

"Happy to," she said, fake smiling at him, then glaring at me.

I sat in awe, starting to realize just how manipulative she really was. She so slickly planted ideas in Boris' head as if he had just come up with them himself. And he was totally oblivious to it! I felt sorry for him, how she weaseled her way into his life and made him pity her.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's get drinking!"

She's a REAL keeper, I thought to myself.

And to make matters worse, she had overheard the one thing I'd hoped she wouldn't.

"So, Theo...I hear you had a Groundhog Day situation?"

"You told her?!"

"No! How could I have told her?! You only just told me," he said, laughing.

"I don't know...Whatever. Can we please not talk about this?"

"Oh Theo, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Those situations are always hard ones…"

*Boris does spit take*

"Oh, so that's funny to you?!"

"Oh c'mon, Potter, lighten up!"

"You know, I broke up with my girlfriend tonight, so no, I won't lighten up, thank you!"

"Oh, boohoo! She was a nosy bitch anyway…*sips drink*" said Kotku.

"Get out," said Boris.

"What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me. Get out! Leave! He doesn't need thees right now. Eet was fine when I thought we were just joking around, but now that I know we're not, I don't want you here."

"You're unbelievable...I'm cutting you both off by the way. So suck on that, fags!"

"*sighs* Fuck...Can you believe her?" he asked.

"I can actually, but what's she talking about?"

"She won't give us any more freebies. Looks like I gotta find myself a new dealer…"

"That's okay. We've gone sober for two weeks, surely we can hold out a little while longer. It's not that bad."

"Pff, not yet eet eesn't!" he said.

"But hey, in the meantime, we've still got a whole bottle of this left."

"You're right. Who needs her!"

"*laughs* Not us!"

"Damn right!"

But after drinking ourselves dry, things started happening...between us.

There was a moment, one for the books, where we looked at each other and just laughed. Where the corners of our mouths lowered, settling in the stare between our eyes, the gaze that reminded us why we cared for each other as we did. So simple a moment yet so intense an effect on us both. I almost felt frozen in time, until-

*kisses*

"*pulls away* What are you doing?" I asked.

"Wot does eet look like? *continues kissing*"

"*pulls away* I don't want your pity fuck..."

"Who said anything about peety?"

"But what about Kotku?"

"Wot about her? Sex ees sex, Potter. Eet doesn't hayve to mean anything. Don't overthink et."

It doesn't have to mean anything...It doesn't HAVE to mean anything, so in that case, he's saying it could very well mean something. Perhaps saying it didn't was his way of saying it did. Denial.

"I'm not, but it just *sighs* doesn't feel right...You're still together."

"We're in a casual relationship, Potter! We can do whatever the fuck we want whenever the fuck we want with whoever the fuck we want!"

"*thumps* Why didn't you tell me that before, asshat?!"

"Becoz! I thought eet woz obvious!"

"God, I'm going to kill you!"

"No, you're not…" he said, shaking his head and looking at me with knowing joy.

Initially, I thought he was going to kiss me again, but he didn't. He just laid there, cupping my cheeks with his hands and stroking them with his thumb, finally saying:

"Wow...Arabelle woz right. You do have cute cheeks!"

"Mm," I mumbled, nearly interrupting him with my lips landing on his.

And I lost myself in his kiss, in his touch, in his body in rhythm with mine. He left his relationship at the door just as I myself let go. I couldn't help it. It was almost like with each drop we drank, we were slowly emptying the feelings bottled up inside ourselves, the ones that cried out in my sleep, begging to be touched by none other than him. Maybe that was what prompted us in the way that it did, but buried deep in our friendship was a long-standing desire that we would never consciously acknowledge.

With Arabelle, I got the teen high school romance that everyone secretly wishes to have at least once in their lifetime. The feelings, so soft and fluttery, but all the more complex. I wasn't used to being "taken" by someone and all of the understandings and unsaid rules that came with that. I got to go through all the different bases...well, almost all. With Boris though, things were different...so very different. When it came to us, we skipped to the big stuff like it wasn't even a question or up for deciding because we weren't in a relationship, we weren't a couple. There were no rules! We weren't made for them. We were dysfunctionality at its finest, and vaguely, anti-Peter Pan in the ways that we tried to grow up faster than our splintered selves would allow.

I was under the influence of Boris. He was the veil over my eyes, the distortion of my reality, my inexplicable temptation. Sexual magnetism was the only word I could think of that truly applied to him, because boy- was it magnetic, his charisma. The way I felt about him, thought about him- it was purely physical, except for when it wasn't. Except when I remembered how much better my life was with him in it. Except when I told him things I wouldn't dare tell anyone else. Except when the perks and factors of our friendship came into play- the drinking, the drug-taking, the stealing, the long bus rides home, the shared playlists, the deep late-night conversations, the running around the house till our nicotine-thin bodies collapsed to the ground in breathy laughter. Things I would normally never do with anyone else, I did with him...And they were only fun with him!

As Bob Ross once said, there are no mistakes, only happy accidents. Now, I'm not saying that's what we are, I'm not saying that at all. I'd hardly call it happy. Does he make me happy? Sure. Do I make him happy? Sure. But are we happy on our own? Are we the cause of each other's happiness or does it just come and go in waves? We were such disturbed individuals in the way that grief and loss, abuse, and everything depressing inhabited us like a parasite, feeding off our lives until they were so miserable that some days we felt like we had nothing left to live for except, of course, each other. My point, you ask? My point is that while we may not have been a happy accident, we were surely an accident that was meant to happen. An accident, that like the happy ones, was supposed to be embraced rather than looked down on with disappointment and brief self-resentment. Our structure of a relationship was so blurry and rugged and unclear, even to us! It was just the occasional one-night stand or intense staring or limbs resting against each other without worry or the times he teased in suggestive ways or the not-so-casual, casual flirting.

But let's just say that after fooling around in a drunken state, Boris was suddenly filled with this jolt of energy and an eagerness to go anywhere but here, to run free and so clumsily through the streets. Normally, I would never ride in the car with him while he was under the influence, but as it turns out, I was too, so my judgment was poor, my vision blurry, and my mind fuzzy.

Boris driving was already a hazard at hand without anything in his system, but drunk Boris driving was a nightmare on the highway to hell! Looking back on that night, I always thought to myself 'If only.' If only I had said no, if only we hadn't drank as much as we did, if only he had his license, then maybe none of this would've happened, but of course, it did. It all happened in slow motion, like a car crash...except for the fact that it was one.

Lines painted on the street soon became wavy and no longer stagnant in the eyes of Boris, I would imagine. I wasn't the one behind the wheel, but they sure looked that way to me and I could tell that it was the same for him, just by the way he occasionally and ever-so-slightly wandered outside his lane and into others. And the worst part of all was how he would do all of this with music blasting through the speakers so loudly that it made the car shake and buzz. I was already scared enough as it is about his crappy, old, junkyard car breaking down mid-drive, or pieces of it falling off, but this just added to the anxiety of the situation. His reaction time had slowed, his concentration- faltered, his sense of the car in space was uncertain. And we both paid the price for it, once the car came in contact with another. "Whoa, Boris, watch out!"

BAM! In an instant, the whole bumper of the car was busted and the front windshield had shattered almost entirely on the right side, the side on which I sat. It knocked me unconscious, the impact of it. I had hit my head on the window. Boris, on the other hand, walked away with nearly just a gash across his forehead and a little bit of whiplash. Now, I don't know exactly what happened in between then and when I woke up in a hospital bed, pretty severely injured, but I would've imagined it went a little something like this and I think, according to what Boris has told me, it probably did:

"Well! That woz some heet, huh Potter?"

*no response*

"Oh, silent treatment...I get eet. But just know I'm reelee sorry...I nayver should've gotten ose into thees mess."

*still silence*

"Potter?"

*no answer*

"Oh my god, POTTER!" he exclaimed. "Are you okay? *shakes* Wake up, Potter- PLEASE!"

*no change*

"My god, wot am I going to do…?!" he likely asked himself as he tried to figure out whether to a) stay, knowing he'd get caught for underage, drunk-driving, or b) escape from the scene while he could, on the understanding that he might face even FURTHER consequences because of it.

Obviously, he chose b. He drove off into the nearest parking lot, called 911, and impatiently waited for an ambulance to arrive upon request. He insisted on hopping in it with them and ditched the car. Of course, that didn't matter because the doctors were required to ask about what happened and the police were drawn into it anyway, but luckily, my dad saved the day, getting him out of a DWI conviction by pushing the blame on himself and also bribing the police officers with some tickets he had won from a casino or something. I was more than glad that this didn't get back to Boris' dad.

I had a minor concussion and a little internal bleeding. I don't remember hardly anything about that night, even before the crash. It was all in blurs, here and there, but the one thing I did remember was what happened between us before...That was pretty hard to forget!

I was told that when the doctors tried to keep Boris from entering my room, telling him 'family only,' he claimed that he was my family, the closest to one you'd ever get and that we were brothers. But Dad and Xandra just marveled at the way he never left my side, not even for a second. He just sat there, hands tightly gripping mine, tears in his eyes and running down his cheeks. He mumbled words to me that I could only assume were words of regret, apology, and self-loathing. I really wish I had been awake to hear them...It was one of the realest moments we'd had and I had been unconscious throughout its entirety! Could my timing have BEEN any worse? But alas, slowly, my mind started to return to its normal state, my eyes flickering like a lighter until the echoes became speech and the blobs became a person, that person being him.

"*murmurs* Theo, please forgeev me, just wake ope...I can't leeve weeth myself knowing I'm reason for your demi-"

"Boris?" I weakly mumbled. "What's going on? My head is pounding..."

"Oh my gode, POTTER! Thank GODE, you're alive! You're ALIVE!"

"Whoa, whoa, don't go all Frankenstein on me now…"

"*laughs* You hayd me scared half to death!"

"Boris! Please just tell me what the hell's going on and why we're in a hospital…" I said, my eyes suddenly locating the hands holding mine.

He rubbed his thumb over my fingers with care, flicking at my fingernails so intimately. Before answering my questions, he too looked at them upon realizing where my gaze was going. Then, he shook his head nervously, saying:

"Oh, sorry, ees that weird? *awkwardly slips hand away* Eet just poot me at ease when I thought that you might- Well, nayver mind that…The truth, well, *sighs* I got us eento car rake. I'm so very sorry, Potter. Truly, I deedn't see thees coming…"

"I never thought I'd say this, but Boris, chill out, man! Everything's okay."

"But eet's not okay! You're hurt becoz of me!"

"Well, I never should've gotten in the car with you in the first place."

"No, Potter, don't put thees on yourself. I shouldn't have done eet at ole. Eet was stupid."

"It's okay, Boris, really. We all make mistakes."

"And wot a mistake eet woz...After eet happened, I had one of those moments, you know- where you don't realize wot you hayve until you olemost lose eet for real."

I said nothing and smiled coyly. Then the doctor burst through the door, just when the tension between us was most evident.

"Get me my glasses, will you?"

"Yeah, shore, of course…"

He reached over to the bedside table and placed the glasses in my hands.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Now I can reelee cole you Potter weethout feeling weird," he said with a wink.

The doctor cleared his throat, announcing his presence as if we weren't already aware.

"Hi Theo, I'm Dr. Graft. I'm here to give you a consult."

"Graft? Like skin graft?" I asked, laughing.

"Yes, I suppose it is! That's charming, I'm surprised no one else thought to joke about that in medical school. *shakes head* Anyway, I uh...hate to ask you to leave, but-"

"Oh no, eet's okay. I'll go tail hees, I mean, our parents that he's awake now," he said, patting my thigh and exiting the room.

"Splendid."

And after the consult, I said:

"Wait, Dr. Graft?"

"Yes, Theo?"

"Would you mind getting Boris for me?"

"No, not at all. I'll let him know that we're done."

"Thanks, Dr. G."

"No prob, kid."

Once he walked back in shyly, hands in his pockets, sitting on the edge of the bed, I said:

"You know, with that scar, you actually look more like him than me!" I said, resuming our conversation as if it never ceased.

"Huh? Wot are you tawking about?"

"The gash, on your forehead," I pointed. "Like Harry Potter's lightning bolt scar."

"Oh, *chortles* right."

"Boris, why don't you go home? You must be so tired, waiting here all this time."

"You had Dr. Graft cole me een here only to send me home?"

"Well, no, but still...I mean, Kotku must be really worried about you."

"Potter, no one's worried about me but you."

"Well, you got me there…" I said, the both of us laughing a little.

"You're...not gonna...tail her about wot hayppened, right?" he asked choppily.

"No, of course not. To tell her would be to broadcast it to the world. Not much to tell anyway..."

"Right," he said with snorty laughter. "You know, acksholey, maybe you're right…Maybe I should go. I don't think your parents are too happy weeth me right now."

"Yeah, probably best, I guess...But thank you for staying with me, meant a lot."

"Of course, Potter."

"Wait, what condition is the car in? After the wreck, I mean."

"Bayd, pretty much totaled, so I just deetched it."

"Shit, really?! That's a shame...I know how much you liked that car."

"Eet's okay, you're more important to me anyway."

"*smiles* So, how are you getting home then, if you ditched the car and everything?"

"Kotku. Can't risk my dayd finding out."

"Yeah, I get it."

"Well, eet's oleways a pleasure, Potter. Hopefully, your parents'll come around and will allow me some visiting rights," he said with a wink.

"Don't worry. They'll get over it eventually...they will."

"I'm not so sure."

"Well, I am."

"Good because eet wouldn't be fair to keep family away from family, would eet?"

"No, it would not," I said with a smile.

"Take care of yourself. I'll see you at school."

"Will do. *sighs* Well, this has officially been the most prolonged goodbye ever!"

"Yeah, something like that," he said, exiting with a laugh and wave.

Recovery wasn't easy, but I made it through. Going back to school after what happened was much harder, especially when ex-girlfriends came into play...

"Oh my god, Theo, are you okay?! Boris called, told me everything," said Arabelle.

"I'm sorry, Boris called you? How does he even have your- *shakes head* Never mind," I said, realizing he probably swiped my phone for the contact.

"Well? Answer the question! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I said, laughing lightly.

"Good," she said, taking a sigh of relief. "I was so worried...and to tell you the truth, I feel partially responsible."

"Oh no, no, no! It wasn't you, it was just the end of the pact I made with Boris, so we went a little crazy."

"Are you sure? I just, I feel so bad about how poorly I ended things...I was the asshole."

"Eh, I had it coming. I only put it on myself."

"That's not true. I could've handled it A LOT better."

"Oh c'mon, it wasn't the worst thing in the world, was it? I mean, if you haven't noticed, you're kind of like way out of my league. You could do a hell of a lot better than me."

"*punches shoulder lightly* Stop it! That's NOT true…"

"Yes, it is!"

"No, it's not! *sighs* Theo, just because you're a little confused about certain things and have been through traumatic experiences doesn't make you any less of a great guy. Maybe we weren't right for each other in the first place."

"Well, our signs aren't compatible afterall," I said, referring back to our conversation on our first date.

"Oh, that's right. I had forgotten about that."

"So...Friends?" I said, extending my hand out to her.

"Friends," she said, shaking my hand.

And no matter how many times I told Boris we were good, he just seemed to feel even more guilty. I could tell that he was crumbling, that it was tearing him apart, knowing he was responsible. So plopping down in the bus seat beside him, I said:

"Hey."

"You mean that?" he asked.

"Yeah…? *chuckles* Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know, I just wozn't expecting you to be thees understanding and forgeeving."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, I just screw ope ole the time. Thought you'd be seek of me by now…"

"No, of course not…" I said,

"Oh...Good."

"Boris, how would you like to have a sleepover with me?"

"For real, man?"

"For real, man."

"So, they're on board weeth eet? They don't completely hate me?"

"No, of course not. They know you've been through a lot, just like me. But the question is...are you in?"

"Oh, I'm in, Potter! I'm so in..."

"Great," I said with a smile.

I was a little surprised by the fact that he didn't do anything about Kotku after our heated fight...and theirs! Instead, they remained together, as if nothing had ever happened. As if we just said some things we didn't mean and got drunk, but never took things further. He did nothing when I was almost sure that this was the beginning of the end of our friendship, but baby steps, I guess. Fights- you win some, you lose some.

And just when I thought the night we had drowned our livers in liquor and gotten busy couldn't be topped, it was...by this one. We didn't do anything crazy, we didn't even do what we did before, but we didn't need to. Oftentimes, the quality time was enough on its own and just the fact that the night didn't end in the ER was a huge relief! But no, this night was particularly extraordinary.

The magnificence of it all started right after we got off the bus and started walking down that dirt road. He stole my glasses off of my head and tried them on himself.

"Hey!" I said. "What are you doing?"

"Check eet out! I'm Potter now," he said, placing my glasses on his nose and ears. "Hey, eet's kind of like Cole Me By Your Name."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Shut up! You're seriously tailing me you've nayver read eet before?!"

"If by it, you mean Stephen King, then yes, *chuckles* but no...never heard of that before."

"Oh, Potter, you hayve to read thees book! Say, how 'bout we stop by the book store right now?"

"Right now? Sure! I'd love that. I'll text my dad so he knows where we are."

"Tell him I said: 'Hey,'" he said in an unnecessarily dramatic way.

"Haha, I will."

And so we went to the bookstore, shoplifted the book with ease, and went to return it the next morning when we were done. Except the thing was, I didn't want to return it, but I knew it was the right thing to do. Had to return that copy of Lord of the Rings anyway.

And after dinner, we settled in bed, two bears in a cave you might say. But then, randomly, he nudged me as if a domino and we took turns rocking our shoulders back and forth playfully, cracking smiles. But oh, how I loved the way he looked at me, the way his deep brown eyes sparkled. It didn't feel like just a gaze between friends or a gaze between brothers…It was one that we invented ourselves, one so personal as the uniqueness of a fingerprint, as intense as the orchestral build to a sforzando and a lingering in the sudden quietness thereafter.

"What?" I asked, noticing how he was staring at me.

"Say something."

"I just did. What else do you want me to say?"

"Anything."

"Okay...Anything."

"*rolls eyes* .HA," he said with sarcastic annoyance. "No, but really."

"I don't know what to say!" I said.

"Read me some of the book."

"Okay, which part?"

"Any part. Peek a page and start there."

"Or…"

"Or wot?"

"Well, this'll take what? Like 5 hours to read…? We could just read the whole thing. It'd give us something to do."

"Okay, yeah, that sounds like fun. We can stop and discuss at any point."

"Oh, is it that kind of book?"

"No, but eet has some moments that are too funny and beautiful not to. And rumor has et, they're adapting et eento a film too."

"Cool! What's it about?"

"Why don't you find out…"

"Alright. *clears throat, begins* 'Later!' The word, the voice, the attitude. I'd never heard anyone use 'later' to say goodbye before. It sounded harsh, curt, and dismissive, spoken with the veiled in- difference of people who may not care to see or hear from you again. It is the first thing I remember about him, and I can hear it still today. Later! I shut my eyes, say the word, and I'm back in Italy, so many years ago, walking down the tree-lined driveway, watching him step out of the cab, billowy blue shirt, wide-open collar, sunglasses, straw hat, skin everywhere. Suddenly he's shaking my hand, handing me his backpack, removing his suitcase from the trunk of the cab, asking if my father is home. It might have started right there and then: the shirt, the rolled-up sleeves, the rounded balls of his heels slipping in and out of his frayed espadrilles, eager to test the hot gravel path that led to our house, every stride already asking, Which way to the beach?"

As I read this aloud to him, I thought of how this coincided with our own story. It was particularly found in the initial attraction and the pining and the questioning and the analyzing and the reciprocation and the so-and-so. I felt that I was most like Elio because he was younger and we shared similar attitudes toward our situations. The name Elio even sounded a little like Theo! However, Elio had this cool edge to him that Oliver did not, so in that way, Boris was definitely more like Elio than I, that and the fact that Oliver was somewhat of an intellectual, scholarly figure like myself. The only other thing I had in common with Oliver was something I did not yet know and that was that eventually, I too would have to leave Boris behind, just like he with Elio.

Everything was in secret and behind closed doors, but speaking of the characters, there happened to be two other female love interests for each of them, that was, of course, before they got together. Marzia was Elio's equivalent of Arabelle, Chiara- Oliver's equivalent of Kotku. And if it wasn't already obvious...SPOILER ALERT: Neither of them worked out. And I couldn't help but notice how incredibly gay this book was. Was this purposeful? What was he trying to insinuate? Was he suggesting what I thought he was? It didn't feel like an accident. Because why would two straight boys be reading a summer romance book about two gay guys, fucking and falling in love, when most straight boys are scared shitless of being associated with anything outside of heterosexuality? But then again, were we straight? I didn't know. I couldn't get straight about that myself!

But as we neared the end of the novel, we likewise neared the end of our alert and open eyes, now ready to shut into sweet slumber. His breathing was a sweet, soft lullaby in my ear, shushing me to sleep. It was so cute, the way he sighed in his sleep when he turned my way, no sense of personal space, nothing but sheets between us. And sometimes we genuinely didn't know what we were to each other, but it was a beautiful confusion that I held onto dearly and didn't neglect, the same way in which a mother would with a child. Instead, I challenged the confusion, and to some extent, encouraged it because it was moments like these that were worth the brief uncertainty.

Since I had only just asked Boris to come home with me, he didn't have any extra clothes or hygiene products packed, so we shared. Shared. Oh, how I liked it when we shared! I loved the way my shirts were crop tops when presented on his lanky body, how it made him look like the witchy lead singer of an emo rock band.

And as he left the next day, my eyes continued to scan over the book. How is it that sometimes the right thing to do wasn't always the right thing to do? This book, right there in my hands, I couldn't bring myself to return it. Why? Because it was the only symbol I had of our relationship, our brutally unofficial relationship, and I wasn't ready to let that go yet...or ever really. If it was even the slightest indication that he liked me, then I couldn't return it. I had to keep it, as long as I could. I certainly didn't care whether or not he returned my shirt though, that was one thing for sure!

Looking around at my newly messy room, however, I realized something. Sometimes, Boris could be a total slob. He might as well have been Pigpen from The Peanuts...he certainly LIVED in a pig stye! He didn't really value personal hygiene as much as one should, he left beer and Vodka bottles EVERYWHERE like breadcrumbs on a trail, and the list goes on! Me, on the other hand, I combed my hair to a tee and always wore dressy casual clothes, unless of course, it was something of his that I had borrowed. I always "cleaned up" nicely. While my eyes would hover over a girl's beautiful hair and imagine what she was actually like, he would gawk at girls like they were objects. It was quite possibly even less attractive than everything else I've mentioned and it drove me up the wall, but for some reason, I just couldn't shake him. I couldn't get him out of my head. Our bodies carried a tune that couldn't be replicated with any other person, our minds were one, our hearts were each other's...Boris was Boris! There was just no other like him.


	12. It's All Over Now, Baby Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry, I know I took forever again to come out with this. It took a lot of planning, but I've honestly just been taking my time with this book to keep me sane. I decided to break up the finale into two chapters like I've done in the past with my other books, but it's still long as fuck, lol. And sometimes when I get stuck, I get sick of writing the story and have to come back to it later. Anyway, who cares! I can already tell that this will not be a very dialogue-heavy chapter at first, but don't worry, it'll get there. There's just much for Theo to reflect on first. The poor guy's been through so much, ahhh! Love y'all <3

Say what you will, but a while ago, when Boris had told me that he and Kotku were in an open relationship, I didn't believe a word of it. I knew that was just his way of saying that Kotku cheated on him constantly and he put up with it anyway. Because we accept the love we think we deserve, but he was way more deserving than the lowest of the low…

And on the night my dad died, he was the only person I wanted by my side, but his mind was elsewhere. I even went as far as to offer for him to bring Kotku over here if it meant him staying. If that wasn't a cry for help, I don't know what was! Lucky for me though, she felt sorry enough to let him stay but not enough to actually come herself.

Even without Kotku there, I still had never seen the house quite as full as it was that night. Instead, guests came in small stampedes, those guests mainly being Xandra's trashy work friends. And unable to read the room, little Popper scampered from person-to-person, greeting them with a panting tongue and eager tail. Everything just felt so out of place, like there was no right answer for how to cope with such a tragedy, although, for me, disoriented as I was then, the tragedy had not yet hit.

Xandra was a hot mess— drinking, then crying into her cup. Somehow, even the fact that my dad had been drunk off his ass seemed to neither bother nor surprise her, nor me, for that matter. But the weirdest thing of all was the fact that I had just cheated death in a drunken car crash myself, meanwhile, my dad, Xandra's boyfriend, actually bites the dust and then she's stuck with me— a kid that she hardly wanted living with her to begin with. Sure, she'll nurture me for the first week or two, maybe, but then she'll lose interest and start telling me to "fetch it myself." I had to get the fuck out of there.

So once Xandra was passed out cold in the forbidden room, which had essentially been containing my father's addiction from me before he passed, I started packing my things, scrambling around to find enough cash to go places, to give myself something to start with, but not enough to leave Xandra broke. Boris continuously taunted me with some sort of "magic" powder he found on the nightstand that supposedly sobered you up and was really rare and profitable. And finally giving in, he nursed me back to health with it, feeding my nostrils like food to a baby, which surprisingly, really did the trick.

I started barking orders at him about getting plane tickets and whatnot. I guess I just assumed he'd want to come along with me because, to be quite frank, I couldn't imagine my life without him, now that he was in it. But oh, the parallels! First, Boris is trying to run away from his dad before he has to move again, then I'm trying to run away from Xandra after my last blood parent just died. It was so easy for me to let him tag along, but the minute I actually brought it up, it felt like I was dragging him. He might as well have been kicking and screaming like a toddler, that boy...

Borrowing his disposable phone, the one he used to keep tabs on Kotku, I called a cab company. But as we waited, I so idiotically babbled on and on about our life together in New York and what it could be like if he'd just listen to me. And that's why what happened next felt so surprising and out of the blue.

The kiss. It was one of those moments where you didn't know how long it would last until it was over. Should I hold him? Should I push him away? Should I kiss him back? Or do I just stand still and let it happen? It ended before I had decided myself.

At first, it felt unexpected and wonderful, like a new beginning, then slightly flustering and compromising, and finally, disappointing, not because it was a bad kiss, but rather the opposite. Because it was short-lived and I knew it was a goodbye kiss from the moment it was over.

Now, I know what you're thinking. He'd kissed me before, right? WRONG. He had only ever kissed me before we first...you know, and all other times were usually just chest and neck kisses in the heat of the moment. But never did he kiss me out of context, outside of that bedroom atmosphere where we practically passed out on each other's lips, sloppy and unintentional. No, this was different. It was to shut me up, I was almost sure of it. He put his mouth on my mouth and held it there with vigor, my eyes: two blinking Christmas lights. Was it just one of his countries' many ways of saying farewell? Perhaps...But it didn't feel platonic, it didn't feel platonic at all. It felt like the end of something and the beginning of another. It had ended before I'd even known that it'd started. I knew it was more than just a little friendly smooch, but he still tried to pass it off as otherwise, kissing Popper's nose right after to normalize the goodbye.

Wishing me good luck, saying he wouldn't forget me, asking me to look after Popchyk, he then he ran away, lightning-fast, leaving me there. It looked weird, like I had scared him off, but I was too busy trying to figure out what the fuck just happened and what that was about and what it meant and what prompted him to do that to actually care. I went from so breathlessly standing there, looking into his eyes as if to see what was going on in his head, to shaking the whole thing off and hopping in the cab without acknowledging it at all. Had the cab driver seen us? I hoped not...

Oh, but why didn't I grab his arm and beg for him to tag along with me ONE. LAST. TIME.? He was agreeable enough that if I had caught him at the right moment, if I had insisted and not been so offended by his initial decline, he would've been chasing after my cab at marathon speed— Anything if it meant leaving this godforsaken shithole with me! I had come this close to blurting out the thing, the one thing that was an even greater kept secret than the painting itself. But he must've known it, as he knew all of my secrets. Why else would his kiss keep me from saying the one thing I'd never? It was his way of saying 'Hush, Potter,' his way of showing that on some level, he too felt the same, but leaving it at that, not letting it get to that serious place when he couldn't ensure that he'd join me. He couldn't continue allowing himself to love me, nor I love him, not when our relationship would soon be built on a lie so large.

I can't explain it, but when I left New York, I left the whole atmosphere of it too and entered a new one. Back there, when my mom was alive or when I was living with the Barbours, there were rules, specific social expectations, structure— family! Everything was so prim and proper on the Upper East Side. However, in Las Vegas, I felt swallowed by masculinity; I had to fend for myself. I was riding on freedoms and highs. And then I ended up right back where I started, in the hands of Hobie, and suddenly, I had neither and also both. I had to be responsible, but I didn't have to answer to anyone. Because Hobie wasn't trying to be my dad, grandpa, or uncle. He was trying to be my guardian, my mentor, my business partner. He knew how to be there when I needed him and to disappear when I didn't. He was grooming me for something greater when I would let him down only to make it up to him in the end.

"Hey, Theo?" asked Hobie.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Yeah, of course. What's up?"

"Would you take your poor old Uncle Hobie to Pride?"

"*gulps in baby gay* Pride? As in the rainbow parade downtown?"

"That's the one," he laughed.

"Wait, are you—"

"Is the sky blue? Yes, I'm gay! I thought you knew! *chuckles*"

"I mean, I had my suspicions, but I didn't want to assume anything...Certainly never saw you as the Pride-going type."

"Let me tell you something, Theo…*grabs shoulder* I'm getting old and the last thing I want to be is regretful. At some point, you just have to jump into the madness, it doesn't matter when. It'll be scary and nerve-wracking either way, but there's also so much beauty in it too. So, what do you say? Pride, you and me?"

"Well, I uh...I would! But I'm actually meeting with a client today."

"No worries! It lasts all day."

"Oh, of course, it does...How foolish of me!"

"I'm not trying to force you into taking me, Theo, but it really would mean a lot."

"*sighs* Okay, yeah, yeah. Let's go to Pride!"

"Great! So you'll swing by at say...2?"

"Yeah, I'll be there."

"Splendid. Thank you, Theo. Really, you have no idea how long I've wanted to go..."

"Anything for an old friend," I said with a smile.

Pride. Just the thought of it felt so out of reach. I really locked any yearnings I had deep inside myself, but now those yearnings were resurfacing into pure fear and excitement. I remember always feeling a little uncomfortable around gay men when I was younger, not because I was afraid of them or thought it was wrong for people to be gay, nothing like that, but because a part of me was always a little afraid that I myself was gay and I was afraid to confront that reality. I hated feeling that way around other gay men, but I couldn't help it, even if it was someone I deeply cared about. But he was sure was slick, that Hobie. I think he must've sensed my situation, he must've known that I needed to see it for myself to believe that it would be okay.

It was always a question of: Did the thought of being gay bother me so much because I was straight or because I was unwilling to admit that I was actually gay too? I didn't want to give Hobie's gay friends any indication that I could feel that way, but many times I did without even trying. I could be so completely confident in my straightness and then something would always make me question that confidence, whether it be getting brutally bullied over the possibility, getting hit on by other guys, or actually sleeping with another boy. And sometimes I asked Hobie questions, questions that were inappropriate, a little offensive maybe, questions I definitely probably shouldn't have been asking, but just couldn't help but. Honest to god, I was just curious. I was trying to learn and immerse myself in a culture I had shielded myself from for years, that I knew so little of aside from its many stereotypes. Maybe if I jumped in, as he said, then I might grow more comfortable with the idea, like it even— have pride.

"What do you wear to a Pride parade?" I asked Hobie.

"Got anything flashy?"

"Not particularly…"

"*chuckles* Didn't think so. Yeah, me neither. Just wear something comfortable. It's hot out there. Oh, and that reminds me, bring some water. Hydrate or diedrate," he said, throwing me a water bottle.

I laughed.

Four million people. An explosion of color, an array of balloons, flags flapping against the wind, wig-wearing stilt walkers covered in body glitter, men in heels strutting across a stage, furries from left and right, free condoms at every booth— NYC Pride was overwhelming in the most wonderfully weird way possible. It was like an explosion of society, a break-away from the restricting ideals that we hold ourselves to. And there was a different song playing at every corner too, some— blasting through speakers, others— echoing through a microphone, usually cover bands.

Looking around, so many things caught my eye, but most of all were these two men I saw, loose and fancy-free, kissing. That was what I wanted to be, but not with Pippa and not with just anyone— with Boris. I envied them. I envied who they were and what they had. For them, it was so easy. They could go around in public without a care. They didn't care! And Boris and I, well, we were pretty carefree as well, but like most guys, we feared being labeled as gay. For me, for us, it would only further complicate our already complicated lives.

But Hobie and I, we were among the cheering crowds on the sidelines, watching the beautiful floats glide down the avenue so gracefully. Luckily, Hobie's comfort zone was about the same as my own. We were both pretty reserved, old-fashioned people, watchers more than doers, but we still tried to take advantage of the festivities Pride had to offer, even if it just meant collecting some swag from a couple of booths, grabbing a bite at a food truck, and catching the end of a drag show.

"So, what do you think of it so far?" Hobie asked, mouth full of falafel.

"It's...interesting," I said with a chuckle. "But really fun."

"*pats back* I knew you'd enjoy it."

"What about you though? Is it what you hoped it would be?"

"And more..." he said.

"I'm glad. I honestly don't know much about it...How did it get started? Do you know?"

"Yeah. You ever heard of the Stonewall Riots?"

*shakes head*

"Well, I'm sure it doesn't surprise you that men and women could be arrested for cross-dressing back then."

"No, it doesn't, but that's horrible…"

"Yeah, it really was...And the officers often raided bars to catch people too, people who were just going about their business. But then one night, at the very end of the '60s, the LGBTQ customers of the Stonewall Inn bar fought back against this police brutality, most notably Marsha P. Johnson. And so began a movement known as the Stonewall uprising, also called the Stonewall rebellion."

"Who was she, Marsha?"

"She was a black drag queen, kind of the leader of the resistance, I guess you might say. Threw a shot glass at a mirror, shouting words of freedom, and later a brick at a police car. Many called it 'the shot glass heard around the world.'"

"*chuckles* I love that!" I said. "But wow...She really wasn't messing around. That takes some serious guts, to put your life on the line like that!"

"But what's a life without rights? Not one that feels all that worth living, that's for sure…"

"That's true."

"Well, anyhow, a year later, they had what was called the Christopher Street Liberation Day March, right here in NYC," he said, his finger pointing against the table. "And that was the first-recorded Pride March. The rest is history! *winks*"

"Wow, I just had no idea! That almost makes it even more interesting, to know its true roots."

"Absolutely. It's important to acknowledge those who fought for and brought us our freedoms, I think."

"Thanks for convincing me to come by the way. I'm really enjoying myself so far."

"My pleasure. Yeah, it's pretty hard not to enjoy yourself at Pride, isn't it?"

"I can't imagine how anyone wouldn't. It's just so full of, well, love!"

"That was always its intention," he said with a smile.

We had sat ourselves down on a curb to eat and then got back up shortly after to check out the next show. The drag queen on the stage was named Priscilla Queen of the Desert after the movie itself, and even just her name alone reminded me of my time with Boris, living in dry old Nevada together. But after putting on her drag act, she then began interviewing the crowd, which according to Hobie, was often the funniest part.

"Drag queens are a hoot, Theo, but just be prepared because they love to interact with the crowd, try and read people, flirt too!"

"Okay," I said, laughing.

"Hey, don't say I didn't warn you!"

"Y'all having fun out there?" Priscilla asked.

"Yeah!" they shouted.

"I'm sorry, I don't think you heard me...I said are you HAVING-THE TIME OF-YOUR LI-I-IFE?!" she started to sing, like the ABBA song.

"YES!" everyone shouted again.

"Good. Now, hmm…Let's see…You over there! The intellectual-looking twink. Come up here. Let me get a good look atcha!"

Me? I mouthed, pointing to myself.

"Yes, you, doll!"

"*chuckles* Oh really, I'm flattered, but I'm fine. Not much of the public speaking-type."

"No room to be shy in this parade! C'mon, getch your ass up here!"

*walks*

"Yes, that's right. Up you go," she said, grabbing my hands. "Mm, my my my, you are delicious! What's your name, gorgeous?"

"Theo."

"Theo! A lovely name! Is it just Theo or—"

"No, it's short for Theodore."

"I love it, I love it...So, what are you doing here today, sexy?"

"Well, I'm here with my business partner Hobie."

"Aww, how special! And how long have you two known each other?"

"Um, gosh, let's see…I was 13. He's always kind of been like an uncle to me, maybe a father even. Took me under his wing."

"Oh, I see how it is, sugar. So you like your men older then?"

"Oh no no, absolutely not—"

"Because that'd be okay. We all have our preferences, you know...But you said he's your business partner, right? So do you two have like a sex contract or something?"

"No, really, it's not like that. He's my business partner...like actually. We sell antiques together."

"Oh, well, color me surprised then! See, when you said business, I just assumed we were talkin' like doing the nasty here."

"No, no, completely professional and platonic. Not everything's about sex."

"It is in my world!" she joked.

*laughs nervously*

"But antiques! That's really interesting...You must make a lot of sales with that boyish charm of yours! You're like a dashing Harry Potter...if he was a blonde businessman."

"*chuckles* Thank you."

I hadn't yet made the switch to glasses that weren't from my youth. Hobie always teased me about it, calling me Theo Claus because of how small they were on my face. I guess I was holding onto them because somehow, just the memory of Boris calling me Potter was enough to want to keep it alive for as long as I could. I guess you could say I was a little too sentimental at times.

"Seriously though, you can't be a muggle 'cause you cast me under a spell!"

*audience members whistle*

"Come closer, darling, let me tell you a little secret."

"Okay," I said.

"*whispers into mic* I was one the one who gave Moaning Myrtle her nickname."

"You were?"

"Yes, it's true, I'm afraid."

"That's funny...because I thought you were supposed to be my Dumblewhore," I said, playing along.

"Damn Gina! Even I didn't think of that one!"

"Sorry, I don't know what got into me. I don't normally do this…" I shyly said.

"I can see that," she said. "But no one's complaining! Isn't that right folks?"

*crowd claps and cheers*

"Everybody give it up for Theo...POTTER!"

"You know, an old friend of mine used to call me that actually."

"Call you what?" Priscilla asked.

"Potter."

"It suits you. And what'd you call him?"

"His name."

"Which is…?"

"Boris."

"Ohhh! How exotic! Do all of your friends call you pet nicknames?"

"No, just him."

"I see, I see...He must've been pretty special then, huh?"

"Yeah, he was."

"So what happened then? Why aren't you two friends anymore?"

"I moved here, he...didn't. Just drifted apart I guess."

"You seem a little salty about that? Any reason?"

"Long story, one I'd rather not tell."

"Sorry, honey, I'm just trying to figure you out. I think I went too far…Come give me a hug. It'll make you feel better, I promise."

*audience chants HUG, HUG, HUG*

At first, I stood there, practically retreating inside myself like a turtle, contemplating the crowd before me, but then—

"Oh now honey, I don't bite! Don't be ridiculous!"

"*laughs* Alright, what the hell!" I said, hugging her.

"Whoever this Boris guy is...I don't think he quite knows what he lost. Maybe you should remind him," she whispered to me in mid-hug.

I wasn't expecting to feel this way after, but surprisingly, I found it to be really nurturing. I didn't know how much I needed one, that almost maternal hug of total acceptance and unspoken understanding of my confusion. It gave me hope, hope that maybe —just maybe— things didn't have to be so complicated anymore.

I thanked her —and soon after— left the stage, everyone cheering for me. It was definitely something I wasn't used to. My natural instinct was to stay out of the limelight as much as possible, particularly to avoid the secrets I was keeping from slipping out, but it was nice to shake things up for once. Helped me learn how to exist outside my comfort zone a little and that made all the difference. And, funnily enough, it got me a lot of new phone numbers.

"Sorry for dragging you into it, Hobie."

"Nah, it's okay. It was pretty fun to watch you struggle up there," he said with a laugh.

"Gee thanks!" I said.

"Didn't I tell you?"

"*laughs* No, you definitely did. I just should've taken your word more seriously."

"You wanna get out of here?"

"Yes please," I said, almost immediately.

Since that pride parade, I've had a lot of time to look inside myself and self evaluate. I think I'm probably bi, but truth be told, I just don't give a damn. I don't care because Boris is the only one I do care about. He was the only one left that I liked, loved even. He had taught me how not to care about things, so I decided, this was one of them. Straight, gay, or both, I loved him and that was the real reality at hand, one I had to face.

And as for Boris, well, I don't know. I could see him being bi. He's always been a big flirt and one's gender has never seemed to stop him. I don't think he feels the need to come out because he's just who he is and doesn't care to draw any more attention to himself. He's too laid back for that. But whether or not a part of him was gay certainly would've mattered to his dad, which is why he never really gave it much thought and just kept to himself about the whole thing. But now, he had no reason to worry about that, as his dad was out of the picture just like mine. Even so, both of us were guilty of passing ourselves off as straight.

I had a great time at Pride though and I wouldn't change my experience there for anything, but it was still a lot to take in. The one thing I hated though, was how I could finally get somewhere with my sexuality and then instantly revert back to that hetero world I had grown so accustomed to. In a matter of months, I suddenly found myself engaged...to a woman. And it seemed that my engagement to Kitsey was the most telling thing of all, the engagement that would forever be on hold.

You see, the night my dad died, I gave Boris a proposition. I was sure that I had just found us the perfect loophole into the life we always wanted together and that loophole was, of course, running away together, leaving everything behind— no regrets, just love. I was honestly surprised that he hadn't thought of it first, but of course, it didn't work out anyway. He stayed and I left, both things we didn't want to do without each other. But even though I never got to live out that fantasy at the time that I wanted to, he made up for it years later, saving me from making the biggest mistake of my life— getting married to someone I didn't love who, likewise, didn't love me either. This was something I had always secretly hoped he would do.

But sure enough, Boris showed up for me. He came to my rescue, just in the nick of time. Now, of course, we didn't just run away to Amsterdam for any sort of romantic conquest. Oh no, we were in such deep shit with that painting and it definitely was not quite the unproblematic weekend I had in mind by any means, but even so, it was thrilling as hell! I was looking for any excuse to get out of that engagement party and this was it. He was my loophole. To stay would be to live a life of nothing, but to leave with him was to live a meaningful life, a life worth living. A life without restraint and rule. He saved me from a downright nightmarish scenario by throwing me into another one, but this time, with the right person— him.

And through all of this, I realized that I didn't love the wild edge, I lusted after it and I hadn't been lusting after Boris, I had been loving him. I wanted Boris because I wanted someone who would "color my life with the chaos of trouble," just like The Smiths song. There was just this innate trust and draw built up inside of me from our years in Vegas together. I would trust him with my life and I did. He could fuck everything up and make it all go away in an instant without hurting a little hair on my head. He was always looking out for me, even if it was to shield me from his own grand mistakes. He knew my deepest, darkest secrets. The things about me no one else knew, he knew them like the back of his hand. And in return, he showed me sides of himself that he showed no other.

Sometimes I felt like I was just constantly tripping and falling into different places and I think that was because I always felt so out of place. I didn't have a home, I was constantly moving from place-to-place, leaving behind the next set of people I'd connected with and never looking back, unless they somehow found a way back into my life on their own, like Boris did. He was the only thing in my life that felt permanent even when we no longer saw each other, as I manifested my love for him in taking Russian in college. But that boy was like a gopher in a Whack-A-Mole machine, always popping up unexpectedly at the most random times.

And Boris, he was a smart cookie...He held onto my passport, wouldn't let me get away. So, life in Amsterdam— wasn't so great. I grew increasingly depressed, waiting in that hotel room for my scandal to somehow magically get resolved. My addiction issues began to spike, I started contemplating suicide. It was not a fun time...and then Mr. Fuck-Up himself showed up on Christmas morning, in the hotel lobby...with a big bag slung across his shoulder.

"HO, HO, HO!" he said, once his eyes met mine.

He had begged the desk clerks to give him access to my room to the point that they had to personally notify me of his arrival.

"*gasps* Santa? What happened to your beard?"

"Don't be sealy...Ees me! Boris!"

"*gasps* Get out!"

We occupied a table by the buffet area. As he began stuffing his stomach with a full-on feast, I sat, wondering what the hell was going on and why he was continuing to waste my time.

"*raises champagne glass* Lez make toast," he said.

"To what?" I asked.

"To wot? To WOT? To Chreesmus, of course! You know Christ the savior ees born, Sienta Claus ees cahming to town, yatta yatta..."

"Yeah…? What about it?" I asked, not feeling the spirit, nor the point.

"Potter! Where's your sentimentality?"

*shrugs*

"Wot about those Chreesmuses we spent together, huh? Faces beaming weeth joy, chugging egg nog by the carton? Does thees not jingle any bells?"

"Jesus fucking Christ…" I said, sick of his incessant stalling.

"Now that's more like eet," he said, raising his glass up to his smile.

"Do you have my passport?"

"Shore. Wot's et to ya?" he asked in a vaguely New York way.

"Just cut the crap, okay? Please, Boris?"

"Oleright, sheesh! *sets on table* There you goh!"

"Thanks."

"But why the rush, Potter?"

"Look, Boris, I came here to do one thing and one thing only: to clean up my mess, your mess actually...Nothing more."

"Are you shore about that?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"Okay. Well, conseeder our mess...diseenfected then!"

"Huh?"

"Why don't you just take a look een thees bag and see for yourself!" he said, eyeing the bag.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"Well, I'd imagine surprised at least...But tail me, Potter, wot do you see?"

"Stolen cash?"

"Not stolen. Earned!"

"Yeah, right…" I said, laughing.

"Yes, right! Ees yours! I converted eet to American currency. Thought eet'd be more convenient that way...And that's not ole of eet either! More ees on the way, but I thought you might like a littull sample first...Too overwhelming ole at once."

"I'm not interested."

"Not interested? I ask you to come here, you say yes, poot you through hell. Now I do nice thing to make eet up to you and suddenly you won't accept? Why, Potter? Why?"

"I'm sorry, but how does this fix anything?"

"Allow me to explain—"

"Explain? Explain what?! All I want explained is where the fuck the painting is!"

"And I will tail you eef you just—"

"Just what? Sit here and listen to you ramble on and on about nothing for another hour? Where's the money from, huh? Santa Claus himself? Did the painting vanish? Did you pawn it or something?"

"No, I did not pawn et, you drama queen…" he said, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, that's it! I don't care! I don't care about the stupid cash or the stupid painting, will you just get the fuck out? I really just can't deal with you and your shenanigans right now…"

"Shenanigans?"

"Look, this isn't a game to me, alright? So either tell me or don't! Because I'm already done either way..."

"I would, eef you'd shut the fuck up and let me tawk!"

*silence*

"Sheesh, and I'm the one who tawks too much…" he mumbled not so quietly.

*stares angrily*

"Oleright, oleright! You want to know where money came from? Easy! Eet's reward."

"For…?"

"For the painting, you idiot!"

*silence*

"Why the face, Potter? Wot are you thinking een that brilliant head of yours?"

*silent staring*

"Okay, I explain. Long story short, we coled een a tip to the art cops. They found a folder weeth Sascha's name and address of hees girlfriend's apartment. Got thees een return."

"They arrested Sascha?"

"Yes, but who cares! Everyone gets their share and thayse not ole...They found more paintings!"

"Paintings? What paintings?"

"All kinds! You name it! One was a Rembrandt I'm pretty shore…"

"Which one?"

"*laughs* Beats me! But Potter, focus! Your bird ees safe and we are rich! We must celebrate!"

"Oh, but Boris, I can't accept all of this…You need to take at least half, I insist!"

"Nonsense, Potter! Don't you worry about me, I'm ole taken care ove."

"You need this way more than I do..."

"But I betrayed your trust, Potter! I don't deserve you! How could you ever possibly forgeev me?" he said with tears in his eyes.

"Because! You cleaned up the mess! My heart is at rest...finally! I know you, I know what you're capable of, I know your habits, your flaws. I expect this from you, and you know it too. So that's why I can forgive because that's what friends, brothers —whatever you call it— do!"

"You're the greatest friend I've ever hayd, you know that right?"

*smiles, straightens glasses*

"A good Chreesmus?" he asked.

"A good Christmas indeed," I affirmed.

"I am glad."

*smiles*

"Potter, do something for me, just one thing."

"Anything," I said.

"Don't go. Stay a whyull! Geev me the extra night you nayver gave me bake then. You, you're oleways so quick to leave me, but I reelee mees you, Potter. Just cahm to Antwerp weeth me. I show you my place, eentroduce you to my friends! Eet'll allow you to take a longer break from your lady problems!"

"Boris, I can't—"

*sighs* Potter, if you leave now, things wheel go back to normal. I want to hold onto wot we hayve for as long as I can, don't you?"

"Yes, of course, I do, but—"

"No buts. C'mon."

"But I'm a different person around you. Whenever we're together, chaos ensues. There's no end!"

"You realize you're doing to me what Pippa's doing to you, right? Deestancing yourself."

"You take that back!"

"Sorry, but eet's true and you know et."

"Fuck this. I've-I've gotta go…I'm sorry."

"Okay. Then go!"

"Thank you, I will."

"But first—"

"Oh no...That's never good."

"Name one thing you've got to do that's bayter than thees and I'll believe you."

*names nothing*

"Oleright. Eet's settled then! You're coming weeth me, Potter. You're packed, right? Oh, who am I keeding, of course you're packed! We buy you new coat, feex you up good as new! Eet'll be fun, I promees."

"One day. That's all."

"Double that."

"No."

"Yes!"

"No."

"Yes!"

"Still no."

"Steel yes!"

I grumbled and gave in.

"*sighs* You are such an asshole!"

"Oh yes, I am such an asshole for wanting you to veesit my home!"

*rolls eyes, punches shoulder*

Tragedy after tragedy, I often felt as if I never had a say in anything, as if everything was always being decided for me, who of my family died, who lived, who I lived with, what I did, who I loved, who I lost. That was something I constantly wrestled with. I felt like the feather in Forrest Gump a lot of the time. But then again, I'd hang out with Boris and forget that all of that mattered, that any of it mattered.

And growing up, I never had a father figure, well, not really, not a proper one, anyway...I did, however, have a mother figure. My mother was my rock, but when I lost her, I had no one left. Sure, there was Mrs. Barbour and she was ever so kind to me for the brief time that I lived with her. There was Hobie, who was always someone I could always fall back on when I needed to, someone who I had this undeniable connection with surrounding the tragedy that was my mother's death, but my mother couldn't be replaced. She was this open wound in my heart. My dad didn't even try to fix it. If anything, he played the victim. But even though I felt lost without a decent guardian to guide the way, it was Boris who showed me that I didn't need one. It was he who taught me how not to care and just let go. It was the most important lesson I'd learned, one that I had to watch out for at some times and embrace at others.

On the way to Antwerp, our conversation started to hit a bump in the road and that bump was the topic of Kotku.

"Gosh, Kotku...I almost forgot about her!"

"*scoffs* Yeah, right!"

"What?" I asked.

"When she and I used to go out, you coodent handle eet, woodent ayver let eet go. You used to get so worked up about her, face tomato red, nothing but bayd things to say. I mean, honestly Potter, it seemed like everything about her used to bother you. You were oleways geeving me a meallion reasons to break up weeth her, nayver letting me forget how awful she woz or letting one flaw of hers slide."

There were so many different ways I could've chosen to react to that, but this time, I decided to keep my cool.

"Hey man, I was trying to do you a favor. It's not my fault that you didn't listen."

"You're right, but I should've...Then maybe none of thees would've happened…"

"I'm sorry, are you saying that Kotku's drug dealing is your reason for having stolen my painting?"

"Your painting? *laughs* And yeah, wot else? I wanted to eempress her, hailp her out. She needed the money. Her mom lost her job, coodent make rent."

"Unbelievable…" I said, getting out of the car. "You really are a prick sometimes, you know that?"

"Potter, where the fuck are you going?"

"Anywhere away from you. Just don't follow me."

"Please, Potter, c'mon...Let's just go somewhere and tawk," he said, stroking the back of my shoulder.

"*sighs* You knew how I felt about her. I mean, really? Did you think involving the painting was actually going to work out for the both of us? How could you be so goddamn selfish?"

"I knew you weren't over eet yet!"

"Which thing?" I asked, trying to be funny and prove a point.

"The painting."

"I know, I know, but how do you expect me to feel, Boris? I just found out that your crappy ex-girlfriend, who I already couldn't stand, was the person behind the whole transaction this entire time."

"You know, Potter, you go bake and forth between blaming me and blaming her. But you're right, eet woz my decision and I've regretted et every day seence I made et, okay? And I don't just mean the painting, Potter...I mean you too."

I was too in shock to say anything.

"*sighs* I kept trying to conveence myself that wot we hayd was just as detayched as a one night stand, but eet wozn't really a one night stand woz et? Eet woz multiple, again and again."

*nods*

"You don't know wot my relationship weeth Kotku woz like, I know you think you do, but I'm the only one who reelee knows. Wot you know ees wot you saw, how purely pheesical et woz. I used to tail you eet woz more, make you think that I woz een love, but wot you don't know ees that I got weeth her becoz I started to feel like wot you and I hayd wozn't just pheesical anymore. Eet ole confused and strayssed me, so I cheekened out and impoleseevly jumped eento a relationship weeth her."

"*laughs* I'm sorry, are you admitting to your own impulsivity?"

"Thayse right."

"*turns serious* What are you saying?"

"I'm saying— Theo, even eef you were the one driving a wedge between my relationship weeth her, I woz driving an even beeger wedge between my relationship weeth you by being weeth her and that wozn't an accident..."

He called me Theo. I realized then that Kotku was the one who ruined and also made our relationship what it was.

"So, where do we go from here then?"

"I don't know...Wot are you thinking?" he asked as a follow-up.

"Take me home, Boris."

"*smiles* Gladly," he said, rubbing the back of his hand against my head.

Gyuri was kind enough to drive us all the way to Belgium, which was about a 2-hour car ride, mind you. And once there, he showed me up to his "appartement," as the Belgians called it.

"So...This is your place?"

"Yes, Potter. Thees es my place."

To be continued...


	13. Eef Ole Goes According To Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I regret to inform you that you have reached the final chapter of V is for Vicodin, but I've been working EXTRA hard at it, it's by far one of my favorite ones, and I'm really excited to see what you all will think of it! I apologize for my INCREDIBLE tardiness once again. I was doing college prep at the time of first writing this and then life got really hard when my suite mate situation did. Since then, I've been tackling online school, I got my wisdom teeth out, and tbh, I've been procrastinating on editing this one because it's really fucking long this time and I kept adding new things to it each time, lmao. But enough of that! If you'll remember, in the last chapter, the painting was rescued, Boris shared the reward money with Theo, and then invited him to stay in Antwerp for a while. I think you all are going to really like the way I made things turn out for them, so don't be a stranger, let me know what you think in a review. Love you all! ^_^
> 
> XOXO,
> 
> K8

Previously, on V is for Vicodin…

"So...This is your place?"

"Yes, Potter. Thees es my place."

"It's...nice!"

"Eet'll be nicer once I poot thees money to use!" he joked, slapping his wallet on the table.

"Boris?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you really bring me here?"

"Becoz! Mi casa es tu casa."

"You know Spanish?"

"Yes! Why do you eenseest on aysking so many questions?"

"Why do you never geev me a straight answer?"

"To keep you gaycing…"

"Is that right?" I asked.

"C'mon, Potter!" he said, shaking my shoulders from behind. "Hayve a look around! Make yourself at home!"

"Oh, that reminds me, I should book a hotel for tonight…"

"I'm sorry, are you volunteering to stay een another hotel? Thought you were meeserable at the last one..."

"And who's fault was that I wonder…"

"Oh, the blame game! Wot a waste of time when we oleready hayve such littull time to waste..."

"Maybe you're right...I'd hate to overstay my welcome, but honestly, a hotel is the last place I want to be right now and it might be more convenient if I spent the night here. Are you okay with that?"

"Am I okay weeth that? Of course I'm okay weeth that! I assumed you were staying here anyway."

"Well, thanks, man. I owe you one."

"Potter, you owe me nothing. That ees fact. I owe you everything."

"A place to stay is more than plenty."

"Well, you can poot some of your clothes een the drawer eef you like."

"No, that's not necessary. But I do think I'll stash this money somewhere, just so it's not out in plain sight."

"Good idea. I steel hayve more to geev you anyway, but I should do the same weeth my half of eet."

However, this brief moment of responsibility did not last long once I unearthed a discovery...

"*opens* Wow, you've got quite the collection here," I said, finding his secret drawer full of drugs.

"Peek your poison!" he said, amused.

I really shouldn't… I thought internally.

"Got any stamps?" I said.

"Oh, I've got some stamps oleright..."

"Show me!"

He tore a tab off of the heart-printed sheet and placed it in my hand so delicately. We each put it on the tips of our tongues, turned on the tv, and started flipping through the channels for the most colorful program on there. Then we slumped down in his bed and let the LSD work its magic. But being as utterly exhausted as I was from the hell we went through on the trip prior, along with the lengthy car ride there, I, of course, fell asleep before my trip even started. And usually, when that happens, you have some really strange dreams, but at first, mine was what appeared to be merely a mirror of the reality I was already sleeping through, as it started with Boris and I in the same place that we already were— his bed.

In the dream, we had each just dropped a tab too as we watched tv. Then he adjusted his head on the pillow and turned his body in toward mine.

"Hey," Dream Boris said.

"Hey," Dream Me responded.

The thing I always loved about Boris' eyes was how incredibly bold they are, like him. The deep, chocolate brown of his irises monopolized the white surrounding them so much, that his pupils practically faded into those rims around them. Seeing them as many times as I had, I'd practically memorized them! But in that moment, he looked at me from the corners of those droopy, red-scratched, lifeless eyes of his as if in a besotted daze, that same kind of look you'd give someone before you sigh longingly in their direction. Made it feel like it was only us, just me and him against the world, no one else.

"What are looking at me with those googly eyes of yours for?" Dream Me asked.

He didn't respond. Instead, eyes still fixed on mine, he broke out into a smile.

"Seriously, what are you thinking about?" Dream Me asked again.

His face suddenly changed. I then felt more in the loop.

"Oh wait, I know that look," Dream Me said. "That's your idea face."

"Wait, shh! Potter, let me try something, yes?"

"*laughs* Yeah, okay."

"Hold steel," he said, cupping my face in his hands.

"Holding," Dream Me said.

"Good. Now, open your mouth."

"What?"

"Just do eet! Trust me."

"Alright, alright..."

The tv projected colors onto our faces in flashes. Something about it made me feel like we weren't watching a movie but were actually inside one. Then, all of a sudden, I felt Boris' bony, foreign nose greet the side of my nostril and his lips open against mine, our tongues grazing briefly.

"What was that for?" Dream Me asked.

"Contact high."

"You're not making sense…"

"I'm making perfect sense! Hayve you seriously nayver heard of a contact high?"

"No! Am I supposed to know what that is?"

"I gayce not, but I thought you'd at least catch on or feel something."

"I felt a lot of things…"

"No, not that! *thumps head*"

"Ow!"

"Potter, think about eet. We both just treeped together and then we exchanged saliva."

"Right."

"But there woz steel aceed on both of our tongues so…"

"Oh...OHHH! Wait— I don't get it…"

"We doubled the high, dumb-ass."

I was silent...at first.

"Getting higher's not my main concern anymore..." Dream Me then said.

It seemed that one kiss was all it took to coax me. His lips were all agape and tantalizing and he was wearing that leather jacket of his, his shirt loose and billowy, already undone three notches, but all I wanted to do was rip it off of him.

Tabs still on our mouths, we started making out. I felt dizzy. The room was a spinning dreidel, but being up close and personal, we found a balance in one another. Micrograms on micrograms we took in with each swirl of the tongues. But the more and more that the kiss —and other things— progressed, the more bizarre my dream, and everything around me in that dream, got.

I was convinced that I was tasting colors and smelling sounds. His leather necklace bounced off of his chest, hitting my own, and in my head echoed the sound of table tennis paddles serving a ball. My arm collapsed on a pillow and suddenly feathers were floating and flying through the air, landing on us in a white flurry. I was hallucinating, seeing fantastical things that weren't there, and by that stunned, yet amused look in his eyes, I could tell that he was too.

Was I being watched? Unlike most dreams, I could've sworn I was not only looking at Boris, but down at myself too, the whole experience so out-of-body. But then it really started to kick in and suddenly Boris' tongue tasted like a morphine lollipop, the same flavor as my first kiss with Pippa...which is who he then turned into. And that's when the fears and traumatic memories displayed in my night terrors began to mix in with the madness, the rest of my dream soon becoming about the museum, the bombing, the loss…My sleep was explicitly disrupted by that fear, panic, anxiety, and overwhelming danger I felt then. All of it resembling a dilemma only a Requiem for a Dream character could find themselves in, I woke up, confused, breathless, body covered in a cold sweat, being reeled in by Boris' long, bony arms which served as a human lifejacket.

"Oh my god, Potter, are you okay? Wot's wrong, wot's wrong, wot's wrong?" he asked in a quick, hushed manner.

I was still in shock. I had gone mute, still trying to catch my breath.

"I'm— gonna tarne on a light so I can see you..."

*flips lamp switch*

"You fell asleep early, but I think you hayd a bayd treep. Eet hayppens sometimes. Eet heightens your dreams, you know? So woz eet a night terror that you were hayving just now?"

I wasn't thinking straight, I wasn't making sense. Words just weren't seeming to come out, only the starts of them. I eyed him up and down, examining the position we were in, not being able to get those hot and heavy images out of my head.

"Are you understanding wot I'm saying, Potter? Blink once for yes, twice for no."

*blinks once in shock*

"Phew! You scared me half to death, Potter. Wot's the matter weeth you? You need some water? You wanna tawk about et?"

"No, nothing, just g-go back to sleep," I said, removing the covers from myself.

"Why? Wot are you doing?"

"Don't worry about me, just go back to sleep! I'm just gonna grab some water like you suggested."

"Oleright. Hurry back now."

"I will," I said, getting up and walking away.

I'll be honest, at first, it was the second part of the dream that was causing me so much distress, but after giving it some more thought, really, it was the first that left me feeling uneasy. Steamy and psychedelic as it was, it reminded me of the very real fact that he was married and I couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable and foolish for dreaming about him in that way. You see, he had told me back in New York before we left, but somehow, after everything that happened, I completely forgot about it. I think it was something about the way he just brought it up so casually, like 'Oh yeah, I'm married by the way' that made it pretty unremarkable in my mind.

After wrestling with this thought a little more, I came back and settled into bed, glancing at his sleeping self. I tried sleeping on my back, but when that wasn't comfortable, I turned to my right and he to his left, our faces now squared up. I really wanted to kiss him then and nearly did...probably would've if it wasn't for his wife. He just looked too perfect and peaceful. But I, on the other hand, was totally restless.

I turned on my side, facing opposite him, but then he rolled over in his sleep and hugged my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder like we were married. Being held by him was something I could see myself getting used to, but at the same time, made me feel like a cheater. I tried to squirm my way out of it multiple times, but his grip only got tighter and became more and more of an embrace. It was like he was annoying in the best ways possible. But somewhere or another, I finally did get some sleep, in fact, I slept in...Well, that was until:

"Wake ope, sleepy head…" he sang.

"Boris, what are you— *rubs eyes* What time is it?"

"Fun o'clock. C'mon, lez geet going!"

"Boris…"

"Okay, fine! *chuckles* Eet's 12:45. I thought we could go grab some brunch or something."

"Right now?"

"Yeah. C'mon, lez go!" he said, our wrists catching.

"Can it wait?"

"Yeah, I gayce...Ees something wrong?"

"*shrugs* I guess not."

"Okay...Tail you wot, I'll geet changed, let you wake up a littull."

"Okay."

"Then we go together, yes?"

"Mmhmm," I said, letting go of our grips as he walked away.

He took me to his favorite breakfast-brunch place, Felixpakhuis, which at the time, I couldn't hold the name of in my mind and just called "Felix's" for short. It was inside this enormous, old warehouse and best known for its Belgian homestyle cooking. Boris ordered us what they called the "Felix Breakfast Klub." Every Saturday at 10 am and Sunday at 10 am & 1 pm, for 22.50 euros, they'd prepare a table full of homemade goodies— everything from home smoked salmon & iberico ham to fresh fruit & pastries to coffee & granola & yogurt. It was a steal!

Everything about it was so perfect...the only problem was me. Every time he called me Potter, my eyes looked like they'd just about pop out of my head. I don't know why, I had heard it from him so many times before, but now that my subconscious had dreamt up the erotic yet problematic narrative about him that it did, I somewhat felt both repulsed and flattered. Things he had always done that I never thought much of, I now began to notice. I even called him bro at one point, somehow thinking that'd be a breezier option, but I only managed to embarrass myself more in doing so. In fact, it was something that he continued to bring up throughout the day and poke fun at me about.

The next thing we did was go to some men's clothing store that I couldn't possibly remember the name of even if I tried. I assumed this was us replacing some items in my wardrobe like he'd mentioned before, as he told me to pick out a coat and any suits I wanted. "Eet's on me," he said. And as I stood in the mirror, suit after suit, he'd have me turn around and brush the creases out of it with his hands, adjust my collar, tie, lapels— whatever it was, it started to have an effect on me. He squeezed my shoulder. I looked down at it, then at him with surprise, noticing the signs more than I ever had before.

"Okay, wot's going on? You've been acting weird."

"What do you mean? Weird how?"

"I don't know, you've just been acting deefrent ever seence last night, strange...And I'm tawking stranger than usual."

"It's just anxiety I guess, I don't know…"

"Okay...Well, ees there something I can do to lessen et?"

"Not really, not that I can think of at least…"

"Oleright, well, why don't we slow down and take our time, huh? How bout eet, Potter?"

"Why do you still call me that?"

"Becoz! Those glasses you wore back when we were keeds looked like Harry Po—"

"But see, that's the thing, I don't wear that pair anymore. My glasses are different now, so it no longer makes sense."

"No, I gayce not, but eet's just our thing! You know?"

*shrugs*

"Oh c'mon, Potter! Eet's our oldest inside joke…*sighs* but eef you eenseest that I cole you Theo, then very well."

"And while we're on the topic—"

"Oh boy…"

"Why do you smother me all the time?"

"Deed I upset you een some way?"

"No, I just— I need to make a phone call."

"O-kay...but lez pay for thees fir—"

*rushes out*

"Wot een god's name— THEO, YOU NAYVER EVEN TOLD ME WHEECH SUITS YOU WANTED!" he yelled.

After that, I overheard him tell the cashier that we'd take all of them, but by then, I had already walked out the door. I needed an excuse to get out of there, to gather my thoughts, to figure out how to tell him that he couldn't be so touchy with me anymore, not when he was married. I don't care if he did cheat, I just didn't want any part of it. So, I stepped out of the store to "call Hobie."

"Theo— Wot the fuck, man?" he shouted several minutes later.

"Hey, sorry, I uh, I had to call and check on Hobie, make sure he was okay."

"Eet coodent hayve waited until we got home?"

"No, I was...worried about him."

"So let me geet thees straight: You were so worried about Hobie that you hayd to leave the store to cole heem?"

"Yes…?" I said hesitantly.

"Look, Theo— I know you're hayving a hard day, I geet that, but—"

"Yeah, okay, I changed my mind. Theo's even worse somehow…"

"*laughs* Agreed! Feels way too unnatural…"

Suddenly he brought Hobie back into conversation, now genuinely concerned about his well-being.

"Hey, ees Hobie okay though? Wot's the deal?"

"Hobie? Oh yeah, no, he's fine, just a little sick, but don't worry!"

"I wozn't until you were!"

"Right, sorry…"

He laughed and threw his arm around me, saying:

"C'mon, let's go meet my friends."

"Yeah, let's go," I said with a smile.

Boris' friends were...pretty much exactly what I imagined. All of them had different funny accents, all very suspicious-looking, carefree people who did drugs to blow off steam. They were quirky in their own ways, each with a new story to tell. Most of them were bartenders or worked for some scammer company probably. They had a way of making me feel welcome and right at home. Wouldn't exactly call them sweet, but they sure were nice...or was it too nice? Something told me that they knew something I didn't...

They would say things and act a certain way toward me, like they looked up to me, but that couldn't be true. They wouldn't give up their life of freedom for mine of order, so it had to be something else...And then it soon became clear that that something else had everything to do with the painting and my stealing it at age 13.

They knew about it. They thought I was some "badass" when really I was just this broken, grieving little boy back then who took a chance on a piece of artwork I thought would bring my mother back. But the other thing I couldn't quite put my finger on was why Boris' friends made me feel like I was already a part of the family, so when we had a moment alone, I asked him about it.

"Boris, what do they know about us?"

"Just that you're my longest friend."

"Boris…"

"Okay, fine! I may have told a few of them about wot we used to do, but don't worry, they're really accepting of that over here. We're actually one of the most accepting and progresseev countries een the world een that regard!"

"No, I don't care about that, I mean— I do, but that's not the part that concerns me."

"Oh, then wot?"

"Why are you broadcasting our sex life to these-these— strangers?"

"They're not strangers, they're my friends, Potter! Friends talk about thees kind ove stuff ole the time— We used to! Eesn't that how eet ole hayppened een the first place?"

"I suppose...but what are you saying, that you're doing the same thing because you want to have sex with them too?"

"No, no, of course not! Jeez, wot has gotten eento you, Potter?"

"Nothing! I don't know...Shut up!" I said.

He shook his head and laughed.

Later, on our way back from spending the evening with his friends, he offered me a drag from his cigarette.

"Uhhh, no thanks."

"Well, I've just hayd about enough of thees!" he said.

"What?" I shrugged. "Enough of what?"

"Thees act of yours. You've navyer turned down one of my cigarettes before..."

"Sorry, I'm just not in the mood."

"You're oleways in the mood! *places hands on shoulders, shakes* Who are you and wot hayve you done weeth Potter?"

I laughed.

"Okay seriously though, wot aren't you tailing me?" he asked as he opened the door to his precious little appartement.

"I uh-uh—"

"*sighs* Hobie's not really seek, is he?"

"Well, no, I mean— he might be, I don't know…"

"Oleright, that's eet! *sets clothes down on table* Wot the hell hayppened in that dream, Potter?" he asked, so serious and yet annoyed.

"What do you mean?"

"You've been avoiding me and acting all squeamish ever seence that dream and I wanna know why!"

"It was about you—"

"Uh-huh."

"About us…"

"Oh?"

"We were…dropping acid like before and then we started…making out…with tongue. But then things started moving under the sheets and that's when the hallucinations and night terror part of it came into play."

"Hot!" he said.

"*laughs* Yeah, hot's right, I mean— No! Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about...You see—"

"No need, Potter...I think I know wot's going on here."

"You do?"

"Yeah. You hayd a sex dream about me and you feel weird about et becoz I'm a married man, right?"

"Yeah, actually, that's exactly why…"

"Well, wot eef I told you I wozn't anymore?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Astrid. She filed for divorce awhyull ago. I just deedn't tail you at first becoz...honestly, I woz embarrassed. But eet woz finalized when ole ove thees stuff woz going on weeth the painting."

"Pff, well, that sure explains why your friends kept treating me like I was your boyfriend or something…*laughs* but why are you telling me this?"

"Becoz I thought you should know…just een case et made any deefrence."

I froze in place, stroked my chin a bit, shifted my weight, moving a little closer to his face. But then the second my eyes landed on his, the wheels started turning and suddenly, I felt this automatic impulse inside me, like a flip of the switch, signaling me toward his lips.

"Potter, say something. You're scaring me…"

And with the devil on my shoulder, poking me with his staff, I leaned in, hands springing forward and grabbing his face with a long-thirsting hunger for that taste. I think it kind of messed with his sense of gravity as we waddled in place a little, searching for some balance in one another. But the fervor in his reciprocation was ever so fiery...

We seemed to have no trouble pinching buttons, unfastening belts, undoing zippers, in fact, we shucked the clothes off each other with ease.

"Oh okay! I thought we'd at least get a drink een before you took me to bed, but now's fine too..." he said.

The bed— our last stop on this trip to pound town. Oh, how the feverish passion seemed to just course through our veins, skin kissing skin. I pulled his hair from the top and tugged his lip from the bottom. And we just devoured each other without the slightest ounce of hesitation— fingers crawling, torsos pressed, legs hugging hips beneath the sheets. I can't say I expected for his lips to run along my neck and teeth to grab my chin, but it didn't faze me. If anything, the unpredictability was what made it so hot after all.

Rolling off the top of him, I landed on my back and sighed heavily, saying:

"I guess now's as good a time as any to tell you that I'm bisexual, huh?"

He laughed first, but really, neither one of us could keep a straight face...so to speak.

"Shut up! *throws pillow in face* You are too!"

"Am I?"

"I don't know, are you?"

"Yeah, I am...Wot gave eet away, I wonder" he said with a smile.

I smiled back and kissed him. Then, pulling back, he said:

"Wait, woz that your way of coming out to me just now?"

"Yeah, I guess...Is that weird?"

"No, the opposite," he said, this time kissing me. "When deed you first start to notice eet anyway?"

"Notice what?"

"That you weren't just attracted to girls."

"*sighs* I don't know, looking back on it, I was always...intimidated by Tom Cable, but not in the way that makes you want to stay away from someone, in the way that makes you feel the need to please and impress them. He was someone I was willing to step out of my comfort zone for because he was cool and well-liked and I guess I thought that by hanging out with him, it would make me that way too, but it didn't...If anything, it made me look like I had a big crush on him or something and you know, maybe there's some truth to that. Maybe I did at first, but it all backfired anyway because he's straight and I'm the one who got caught for smoking while he walked away free, which made me feel responsible for my mother's death...It even gave those assholes Scheffernan and Cavanaugh a reason to taunt me."

"Wot'd they do to you?"

"Oh, you know, called me slurs and *gulps* shoved a stick of deodorant up my—"

"Yowza! I'm sorry, Potter...I deedn't realize."

"It's okay. You know, you're actually the only person I've told...about this and the bi thing. Never really felt like I needed to tell Hobie, he just kind of knows…"

"Yeah, same weeth my friends."

Just the mention of his friends reminded me of what a fool I had made out of myself in front of them earlier that day.

"Sorry…" I said, laughing a little.

"For wot?"

"Being a spaz today."

"That's okay, eet's bringing back fond memories…" he said with a grin.

I broke out in a smile.

"You know, I saw a drag show once," I said.

"You did?"

"Yeah. I took Hobie to Pride this past summer. The drag queen —Priscilla was her name— invited me up on the stage."

"Wait, wot? You? She invited you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, I just— *laughs* God, I weesh I cood've seen that…I hayve so many questions!" he said, continuing to laugh.

"Oh yeah, like what?"

"Deed you have to wear a feather boa?"

"No."

"Feeshnet stockings? High heels?"

"What am I, a stripper? You really think I'd actually go out looking like that in public? No way…"

"Ooh, I know! Deed she do your make-up?"

"What? No! She just asked me questions."

"Oh, well, that's thrilling…" he said sarcastically.

"Actually, you came up into conversation…"

"I deed?"

"Yeah. She compared me to Harry Potter because I still had round glasses then, which made me think of you, the nickname you gave me."

"So wot? You just started tawking about me then?"

"Yeah. Nothing personal, but she kind of caught onto the fact that we, you know…She was really nice about it though."

"Well, I'm glad becoz wotever that woz just now...I liked et."

"Would you say it's a new fond memory for you?"

"Eet's certainly the start of one," he said.

I smiled.

"*smiles* Hey, leesen— I'm kind of beat. You don't mind eef I crash early, do you?"

"No, that's fine. I'm pretty tired too."

He gave me a thumbs up, then reached over for the lamp. Little casual, but okay...

"*kisses* Goodnight, Potter. Sleep well."

"Night, Boris," I said, shyly but happily.

After a lot of obsessing before bed, I finally asked him the big question the next morning over a cup of coffee: Where do we go from here?

"I don't know, you tail me! You're the one who keesed me!"

"And that means that I'm automatically supposed to know what happens next?"

"Yep."

"Wait a minute now, don't you think that's kind of unfair?"

"Don't see why eet wood be..."

"You're the one who just got divorced," I said, poking his chest. "Surely you have a better sense of what you want than I do!"

"Nope. No clue."

"Look, I get that you're more casual when it comes to this kind of thing, but I'm not."

"I know. Potter, that's eggzackly why I like you! You're particular. Eet keeps me sane."

"And you drive me insane!"

"Potter—"

"I just, I need some answers from you, okay? I'm about to leave and if we're together, I need to know because Hobie's expecting me and I'm hopping on that plane— with or without you."

"I don't know...We'll figure eet out like we always do."

"You mean never do?"

"Yeah, same deefrence."

"Boris, I'm really trying here...Was this just a one-night stand to you? Where do you see this going? A long-distance relationship? I move here? You move there? What?"

"*shrugs* We'll just play eet by ear I gayce."

*sighs heavily*

"Or bayter yet, I'll cole you! When you land, yes?"

I wasn't even a little surprised when he didn't follow through with that later.

"Let me ask you something: What do you think this is, you and me?"

"Well, we're friends who hayve made out a couple of times and slept together and—"

"Got it. Message received!"

"Wot are you doing?"

"Leaving," I said, putting my clothes from the night before back on.

"Whoa, whoa, Potter, eef I've offended you een some way, please tail me!"

"Well, you think we're just fucking around here for shits and giggles, so yeah, I'm upset!" I said, zipping up my already packed suitcase.

"Eesn't that wot we just deed last night though...fucked?"

"Yes, but— *sighs* Just forget it."

"Why does everything oleways end een a fight weeth us?"

"Because you always manage to find new ways to disappoint me, but it wouldn't matter anyway, would it? Because as far as you're concerned— there is no us."

"Please, Potter, don't leave, not like thees…"

"Kinda hard not to! *slams door*"

Back then, before I was ready to come out and still fantasizing about this, I always thought to myself: Boris has commitment issues and I have sexuality issues. Maybe we really are made for each other in some really fucked up, "we're both screwed" kind of way. But now only one of those was still true…

On that plane ride back home, I centered myself and was able to find peace in the cloudy view to my right. There was a calmness it brought me, one I needed to distract me from being pissed and baffled by the man I loved's inability to commit past consummating. Instead, I used that time to think and reflect. And looking back on everything that's led up to this moment, I see the way all of the people in my life have shaped me into the person I am today, the way they left impressions on me, big or small.

When I returned home, however, it wasn't exactly a warm welcome. Hobie was still upset with me for leaving so abruptly and putting myself in as much danger as I had, for putting our business in jeopardy, for so many things...But most of all, he was so relieved that I had put it all behind me and it turns out, I was able to make it up to him by buying back the fake antiques I sold to clients with my share of the reward money, restoring the business' reputation and honor.

And not long after that, it soon came to my attention that Pippa would be flying over to visit us. It wasn't until Boris hadn't advanced anything with me and Pippa had come into town that I really started to revisit that dream I had where he turned into her, but I took it as a sign that maybe this was what that was about all along.

I sure was one to fantasize. The first time I saw Pippa, I looked at her, stunned by her beauty and bright red hair, imagining what would happen if I were to speak, to let one word out. How would she react, I wondered. But in surviving a terrorist attack and the terrible grief that came after, I was almost sure we were made for each other, that maybe it was our fate to be together. I always thought, Maybe one day she'll come around...But she never did. Instead, what was once a harmless crush turned into an unrequited obsession. I mean, from the moment I knew her, I was practically borderline stalking her. I wrote to her often, thought about her constantly, and was always making these faulty romantic efforts whenever she came to visit. I even counted the days until our next visit like one does in preparation for a holiday, as if not seeing her was prison to the mind. I think on some level she loved me too, she just didn't know how to continue to, not when I was so intent on beginning a relationship with her from the moment I knew her. Pure puppy love, it was…

It's just— My whole life, I've been putting so much pressure on myself. I preyed on Pippa, thinking that she was all that made sense, my only option. Forget Boris! When I saw her, I saw no one else but her. Not only was she a certain memorabilia of my mother, but a shield from my self-destructing sexuality. Because I didn't want things to change. I was only trying to turn back time before I realized that no matter how hard I tried, that just wasn't possible.

I manifested this unattainable love for her, that kind of larger-than-life love where you can't help but want to spoil the person every chance you get. But as it turns out, it was all really just a coping mechanism. You see, she tried to keep her distance because she knew more than I. She knew the truth. Because I latched onto the two things in my life I had left from the explosion that took my mother's life: Pippa and the painting. But I had to realize that that's not what life's about, clinging to your past, to the things you can't change. It's about embracing the present, and Boris, though once my past, was now my present because fate brought us back together, as he had suggested. I spent most of my life chasing after a girl and running from a boy. And though I never considered this until now, maybe it was about time I did the opposite.

But there was still one problem...It may seem like I'm making excuses, but the closer I got to being willing to give it all up for him, I couldn't help but hesitate. Boris wasn't just any other guy, he was a troublemaker. He had questionable hygiene, made poor decisions, and worst of all, fed into my addiction more than I already did alone. It used to be that I was just skeptical of dating a man, but now, it was the man I'd actually be dating that made me skeptical.

And just when I had decided that I was better off without him, he came knocking on my door. What could this fool possibly want now, I thought to myself. And then, sure enough, I got my answer...

"Wot am I even doing here?" he mumbled.

Wow, he read my mind.

"Acksholey, fuck that, I do know wot I'm doing here. Ever seence you came home weeth me, I hayven't been able to get you out ove my head. There! I said eet."

"Okay..."

"Okay? That's ole you hayve to say to me?"

"I mean, yeah...What did you expect? That I would just immediately run into your arms?"

"Acksholey yeah, something like that...I flew to another country for you!"

"Yeah, and I left my rehearsal dinner for you, but it's not like you're asking me out or anything...Unless! Oh shit, is that what this is?"

"No, eet wozn't, but I gayce I woz just expecting something more exciting to hayppen between us. Like maybe you'd let me een or something and then we'd—"  
"Let me stop you right there. I know you see this as just a fucking with feelings involved, but I'm not looking for that. We've done that, okay? And look where it got us…Nowhere!"

"Okay...I'm sensing that you're mayd at me for whatever reason I gave you to be mayd...so why don't fess ope and you tail me why that ees?"

"*half laughs* I'm not mad at you, Boris. I'm just ready for something more, hmm...let's see— exclusive."

"Wot are you, a girl?"

"*laughs through nose* No, just a lot more mature than you'll ever be…"

"Hey, seriously, where ees thees coming from? Why so rude?"

"It's not rude, just realistic."

"You can cole eet wotever you like, but I'm not leaving here until you say yes!"

"*sighs* Alright, well, don't be an idiot. I'll humor you. Just come in. We can continue this conversation inside."

We walked over to my room for some privacy.

"So, you were saying? You can't get me out of your head and…?"

"I want you, Potter and I know you want me too. Seence when ees that not enough? I thought you'd be flattered!"

My sensitivity to the situation finally kicking in, I said:

"No, I am! *grabs hands* I promise you, I am. But I just think we're on two totally different wavelengths as far as what being together means."

"Oh geev me a break! How long, Potter? How long?"

"Until what?"

"Until we stop wasting precious time, beakering like old married couple! *hands on shoulders* Look, I know you need time seence Pippa rejected you, but—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, she didn't reject me."

"Yeah, Potter…I'm afraid that she deed."

"But she loved me too, she said! I'd hardly call that a rejection..."

"She loved you, but she wozn't wheeling to make et work…I am."

"But you aren't. You think you are, but you aren't."

"You do realize that you were the one who came onto me een Antwerp, right?"

"You think I don't know that?"

"Then what the hell ees the hold-up?! Wot hayppened, Potter? Eet's like we've sweetched places! Usually, I woz the one to start things and you were the one to finish them, but now you started them, and I'm here to finish them."

I paused. A silence fell. I was tempted, more than I'd ever been before, but then reality came crashing down again and my level-headedness got the best of me.

"*sighs* Look, Boris— I want you, I really do. That's clear to me now, to the point that sexuality's not even a factor in it anymore, but I'm done with being 'just another one of your lovers.' And it's not like I haven't thought a lot about this because, believe me, I have! But I just— I don't...think you're ready for the kind of intimacy and commitment I want…And even if you were, what would that mean for your kids?" I asked.

"My keeds?"

"Yeah, you said you knocked up Astrid when you were like 16, right? You have twins and another newborn."

"Yeah, wot about them?"

"*laughs* Boris, for the love of god, have a little responsibility here!"

"You know I'm not dade material, Potter...You know that. Thayse no secret."

"Yeah, well, that may be, but you don't just abandon family...well, you're not supposed to anyway... "

"I reelee don't see why any of thees ees relevant…"

"Oh, it's plenty relevant! Look, I know the way you see it. I know that you never wanted them, you didn't want it to be true, that you tried to make them go away, but you couldn't; she kept them anyway. So you ran!"

"I deedn't abandon her, Potter. I married her, oleright? And eet woz a rocky, crappy marriage, just like ole of my other relationships! Wot more do you want from me?!"

"It's not about what I want, Boris! It's—"

"Oh, but I think etis!"

"Fine! You really wanna know what I want?"

"Yes!"

"I'd hate to see you make the same mistake our dads made with us...You divorced Astrid, that's one step, but I wanna see you to show up for your kids. I'd like to see you be serious about something for two seconds and then, then maybe I'll consider this."

"Oh, so that's wot you want? That's reelee wot you want?"

"Yeah! No point in screwing your kids up any more than we already are, right?"

"I gayce not..."

"Well, good! I'm glad we can finally agree on something."

"As am I!"

"Then it's settled!"

"Yes, but first—"

"Oh, here it is!" I said.

"I'd like to see you be serious about something too."

"Alright, shoot!" I said.

"Thees. Us. Queet screwing around, queet making excuses, queet trying to corral me and then not shoot your shot. Eef you want me...you got me. Got et?"

That shut me up, real quick. But then I came back with:

"*sighs* If it never meant anything to you back then, how am I supposed to know that it actually means something to you now?"

"Hah! I think we both know that eet meant a great deal…"

"Oh, but not to you! No, it was all a joke to you! You'd go on and on about how we just needed girls and—"

"Deed you know that you were my first?"

"Your first?"

"First boy that I slept weeth."

"No, that can't be...You said—"

"I said a lot of things, Potter. You were so easy, so gullible back then. Steel are sometimes..."

"How could you do that?"

"Do wot?"

"Lie to me like that, straight to my face, about something so— foreign to me."

"You were nervous about et. I wanted you to feel like you were in good hands, like I knew wot I woz doing. So wot eef I told a white lie? That eez where you wanted things to go weeth us, no? So I told you that to make you feel more comfortable weeth the idea. Thayse not a crime."

"Yeah? Well, consider me uncomfortable!" I said, nearly walking away from him.

"I deedn't hear a no!" he said in his sing-songy, know-it-all voice.

Back then, when he used to pass off our wild nights as experimenting and "practice" and shit, I always thought about saying to him: If it isn't anything more than us being horny, then how come you bring it up so frequently, so memorably, so unashamedly, huh? Ever think about that? I think you have...And now he was challenging me, telling me the things that I'd always wished he would and not only did I not know what to do with it all, but I was too fixated on the potential problems that could arise to even appreciate it at the time. It's like how are you supposed to dance well when your partner's always lagging 3 steps behind and you're always thinking three steps forward?

"Theo…" he said, grabbing my wrist with a puppy dog look in his eyes.

He suddenly had my attention.

"You're meesing the point here! You once said that I woz your first and that of course you were going to feel something for me becoz of that. Well, shore, you weren't the first person I slept weeth, but you were steel the first boy I slept weeth, so yeah, I hayve those feelings for you too and eef you can't handle that, then I'm sorry, but you were my first and eef ole goes according to plan, you'll be my last too..."

He remembered. All those years ago, and he still remembered that 2 hour conversation we had on Snapchat that one night. But even though that last thing he said was enough to make me melt like a pat of butter, I wasn't willing to give up so easily. There were still things to address, things to seriously consider before jumping into a relationship with the hasty Boris Pavlikovsky.

"Okay. You wanted me then and you want me now. Let's say I believe you..but what about later, when you ditch me for some girl you barely know again? Or better yet— cheat on me like you cheated on them!"

"Wot? No! Fuck that, I'm done being flaky."

"But how can I be sure of that? I just *sighs* I'm sorry, but I need some stability here…"

"You don't trust me, do you?"

"No, not fully. But I mean, can you blame me?"

"No, I gayce not...but Potter, that's ole the more reason why we should geet together! Ees the only way we can build ope that trust between us again, eef we geev thees a chance. A real chance."

I said nothing, but thought everything.

"But don't you think there should be a trust going into it too?"

"I don't know…Look, I'll do wotever you want to prove that I mean business weeth you. I'll do it every day for the rest of my life eef et means that I finally get to be weeth you. But for now, I'll geev you some time to think things over and make up your mind. Until you do, I'll be waiting for you een the Washington Square Hotel."

"Okay," I nodded. "That's fair. I'll let you know."

"I'd appreciate that, but before I go, there's something I'd like to say."

"Yeah, of course, go ahead," I said, suddenly feeling a lot nicer.

"Just that...I'm sorry for leading you on and dismissing our relationship back then. Eet woz stoopidt, but I'm done weeth that now and you should know that you're not just another one of my lovers and you nayver were…Oh, and Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"That thing you said about not abandoning your family, eet's the reason I came back for you," he said, walking out the door and opening his ever so trusty umbrella.

The funny thing is...I think I actually believed him! I realized that I was the one getting in the way of what we had at the moment, I knew that, but months ago, when I tried to make the same effort that he was now, he didn't seem the least bit interested. Plus, you gotta admit that Boris had a lot of growing up to do and it wasn't completely unreasonable to feel a little reluctant at first about being his boyfriend. He was one to make promises that he couldn't keep, be dishonest more than just sometimes, do things behind your back, and piss you off royally, but then I'd think about how hot that make-up sex would be and wonder if everything else about him would somehow make it worthwhile. Was he worth it? Because he seemed to be at every other moment, so why not this one too? But the truth was, I wasn't sure how much more hurt I could take if he wasn't…

What Boris said had me thinking about something...When I was with Arabelle, she boiled my feelings for Boris down to a simple "man crush" that I would get over, when the real truth of it was that she was my woman crush, and a fleeting one at that. But now, now that The Goldfinch had been salvaged and I was no longer attached to its name, I felt probably the freest that I'd felt in years and I think I'm done hiding. I'm ready for a new beginning and a happy ending.

And time and time again, through long periods of separation like these, I'd ask myself: Why am I so attracted to him? And then it came to me. Boris was a bad boy and I liked a little danger. Boris was bold and confident and it made me feel more of the same. Boris had a dirty mind and I think I liked that. Boris was broken and I was too. Boris was my only friend in the world and I was his, but at some point or another, friendship just wouldn't suffice. We had to face the truth that what we had was more…And sure, Boris was a project, one I didn't want to change too much, just improve a little maybe, but at some point or another, I realized that no matter how many times he may have wronged me, continuing to push him away wasn't going accomplish anything. It might be what I deserved, but not what I desired. So, why fight it? After all, it was letting him in that would put a stop to this game we called hard to get.

It's decided. I was ready to tell him, ready to date him— ready to be his boyfriend! But if I was going to do this, I was going all in, and that meant giving him my answer via a romantic gesture, Theodore Decker style. I knew just what to do...

Not long before I left him for New York the first time, he introduced me to the novel Call Me By Your Name. And though the age difference of the couple was certainly problematic or even unethical in some ways, something to be discussed, I still felt this innate connection to it because it was the first piece of queer fiction I had ever read. Not only that, but it was read in the presence of the boy I loved most. And the reason I bring this up is that in passing by a book shop, I ran into a copy of "Find Me," the sequel to the first book and instantly knew how I was going to tell him.

The cover would tell him exactly what I wanted him to do— come find me. And on the inside of the cover, I wrote a note, one that would give him a clue about where to meet me, while also suggesting that my feelings for him were bigger than my doubts and that I was ready for us to start a life together. To be exact, it said: Boris— I'm done with the stalling. I can't keep pretending that I don't want this because I do. Even if us being together comes with its chaos, we'll make the most of it. It'll be our beautiful mess. I guess what I'm trying to say is...I've made us a reservation under Potter at One If By Land, Two If By Sea. It's not until 8:00 though, so in the meantime, I'll leave you with this riddle: Civil War, a memorial, and pennies galore, find me at the center of it all. See you soon...and hurry! Then I signed it with a dash and a doodle of Harry Potter spectacles, leaving it at the front desk for the concierge to deliver to his room.

15 minutes later, Boris pulled up to Lincoln Center in a yellow taxi, where he saw me standing by the fountain.

"Gotcha!" he said.

"Boris Pavlikovsky— just the guy I was hoping to see. Sorry about my shitty riddle."

"Eet woz preety shitty, but I cracked your code…"

I laughed.

"You look good," he said, sounding surprised but sincere.

"You just saw me the other day!" I laughed.

"Wot does that hayve anything to do weeth eet?"

*chuckles blushingly*

"So! Where do we go from here?" he asked.

"Well, I guess we should start by getting a little closer to each other."

(We were about 5 feet apart at the time.)

"Yeah, *chuckles* that would make sense."

I stared at him and just like magic, the backlighting of the fountain turned from red to green— Go, it said. And so I joined his face with mine, but the second I slipped a little tongue into it, he stopped my chin with his finger and thumb, saying:

"Whoa! You can't kees me like that— Not now, not here."

"Why not?"

"Becoz— there's peepull..."

"Yeah, us," I said.

"That's cute, but no seriously, there's so many of them..."

"So?"

*shrugs*

"I'm sorry, did you not want to do this?" I asked.

"No, I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that...Stage fright I gayce," he shrugged again.

Boris wasn't one to apologize for anything, but I guess I was the one person he felt like he owed it to.

"I get that," I said.

"You do?"

"Yeah, I feel it too. I'm just pushing through."

He slowly cracked a smile, but in all the years I'd known him, I don't think I've ever seen him smile like that.

"You know wot? Fuck et, you're worth the push—" he said suddenly, bringing his hand to my face, fingers spreading past my ear and cheek.

I drew him closer, cradling his neck in the nook of my arm. It was passionate and so very public, but I didn't care and neither did he, as it was the very start of our relationship.

"Wow, so we're doing thees, huh? Boyfriend and boyfriend?" he asked.

"It seems that way," I said.

"Beeg step…"

"Yep."

"How are you so calm right now?" he asked.

"Oh, believe me, I'm shaking on the inside," I said.

He laughed.

"We should get going...I have a lot planned for us this evening."

"Is that so?" he asked.

"Well, you took me to fucking Amsterdam, it's the least I could do."

"I took you to fucking Amsterdam to rescue your painting from a drug cartel."

"Probably not a good idea to say that just anywhere, don't ya think?"

"Yeah, okay," he said, breaking out into another smile.

We took our sweet ass time, saw everything there was to see until we wore the city out.

"Reservation for Potter," I then told the host.

"This place is so fancy...How the hell are you paying for thees?" he asked.

"How do you think?"

"Oh right! The painting, of course…" he said, laughing.

"You know, this place has a history itself…"

"Everything has a history weeth you."

"Would you just let me impress you?"

"Fine. Dazzle me then!"

"Okay, I will! *laughs* So, this was originally a carriage house with a built-in barn, but guess who housed his coach and horses here when it was one?"

"No idea."

"Aaron Burr."

"Who?"

"Oh c'mon, you remember, former Attorney General of the state of New York, the guy who shot Alexander Hamilton. We learned about him in Civics."

"How and why you bother to remember these things, I will never know…" he said.

I laughed. And after a lovely dinner, I took him to the Stonewall Inn. "You know what this is?" I asked, then told him the same story as Hobie had told me.

"You know, I used to hate romance, but now eet's starting to grow on me…" he said.

"Welcome to the dark side," I joked.

Then, we popped into the Blue Note Jazz Club for some drinks and music.

"Oh my gode, they sell international beers here?!"

"Someone's excited," I said laughing.

"Potter, you're amazing, you know that?"

"Happy New Year, Boris."

"Haypee New Year, Potter. *raises glass* To a new beginning and a haypee ending."

"Oh, I'll drink to that!" I said.

"So, tail me! Wot eez your resolution?" he asked.

"You. You're my resolution."

"And you, mine," he said, clinking my glass.

Finally, we made it back to his hotel room and well, you probably know by now what happened next. I'll let you connect the dots.

"I guess this is goodnight..."

"Or…" he said.

"I was hoping you'd say that," I said, coming inside, ready to jump his bones.

We're animals. I'm not going to pretend like we're not, but when we fucked that night, I noticed something on his body, something that had been there before, something that I always thought made him look hot and dangerous, but suddenly turned me off.

"Wot? Wot ees et, Potter?"

"The-The tattoo…"

"Oh, thees? Old tramp stamp for my ex Katya, remember?"

"Oh, I remember…"

"Wot are you saying? Does eet bug you?"

"No, not really, it's just a little...weird I guess, *sighs* I don't know. I didn't mean to make a big deal out of it. I like that you've got some ink, really!"

"But eet makes you uncomfortable. I must get eet removed…"

"No, no, really, it's okay, you don't have to—"

"Eet eez done!" he said, leaning over for a quick kiss.

And about a month later, during one of our drunk, fucked up nights, we stumbled into a tattoo parlor of all places. Due to my lack of recollection for any of the events that took place that night, Boris was the one to remind me of them.

"What are we doing here, stupid?" I asked him.

"*cracks smile* Follow me and find out…"

"Oh no, no, no, I am not getting a tattoo!"

"Who said eet woz for you?"

"Oh. OHHH…"

"Yeah, oh," he said, laughing and slinging his arm around me. "C'mon."

"What are you getting anyway?"

"Okay, well, I lied...Eet eez technically for you, but I'm the one who's getting eet."

"Really? You'd do that?"

"Yeah! Eet's going right in Katya's place."

*smiles*

"Now no peeking, you…I mean et!" he said, pointing his finger at me, then poking me in the chest.

"*holds hands in air* Alright, alright, I won't, I promise," I said, laughing.

From that moment on, all I could hear was this incessant buzzing coming from behind the closed curtain, one that made me anxious, but luckily I wasn't the one who had to endure it. A little less than an hour later, he returned, tearing the curtain away dramatically and saying.

"All done."

"Now can I see?" I asked.

"*sighs* If you must…" he said, pushing his sleeve up to the biceps.

"*laughs* Harry Potter glasses, of course!"

"Do you like eet?"

"Like it? I— love it."

"Good."

"Wait, but wasn't it you who said that you should never get a person's name tattooed on you because then you lose the person?"

"Yeah, but wot the hell did I know! I'm not going to lose you…" he said, rubbing the side of my shoulder. "I won't have eet! We've been through too much."

"Well, you sure did love Katya from what I remember, so I guess I've got some major shoes to fill…"

"Yeah, your own. Don't worry about her, Potter. She's old news. Dead to me now."

But it wasn't her that I was worried about. Really, I was fishing for something deeper— the chance that maybe he loved me too. It sure seemed like he did. He did go out of his way to put ink on his body for me after all, but I don't know...he was so casual about everything. These thoughts ate at me all night long, until— I voiced them.

If it wasn't clear already, we had moved in together, but not with Hobie, in an apartment. One that was our own. And you know how people sometimes practice saying 'I love you' to their partner once they've drifted off to sleep? Well, I gave it a shot. Lying on my back, I started rattling off about how I felt in a whisper. I confessed my love for him. But then, the unthinkable happened— he turned in my direction. I rolled over, pretending like I hadn't said any of that, but alas, he turned my chin in toward him and said:

"Say et again."

I stopped for a moment, just as it was starting to get real, but maybe that was okay. Real's good.

"I love you, Boris. I fucking love you! And not to go all Whitney Houston on you, but I always will."

"And who woulda thought that I'd be the shyer one when eet came to thees things…" he said with a laugh, smiling nice and wide. "But you're een luck becoz I love you too, Potter...like acksholey. *shakes head* So so much…"

He rubbed his thumbs against my cheeks and we kissed. It was a perfect moment, one I wish I could relive over and over again and one that I have...in my head. Boris was a questionable person, sometimes maybe even a bad one, but he was my person, no doubt.

A few months had passed by before I started to realize that when I was first around Boris, I was actually at my emptiest. Not because of him, but because of the place I was in at the time. And I couldn't help but feel guilty, doing all of the things I would never normally do under my mother's roof. I did what anyone else would do— told myself that she wasn't really watching over me like people were always saying.

But then I went from being an only child to an orphan, from someone who relied and leaned on their parents to someone who had none at all. I went from having hardly any friends to having a best friend, from being a teen to becoming an adult in just a matter of days. And then there were those fatal flaws that showed themselves, that I never could get rid of, that insisted on following me wherever I went, no matter how much my situation changed. I was an addict, no different than my father, but I was an innately good person when I wasn't a thief and fraud. I did care about people, I had empathy— that was the difference.

Being with Boris gave me a lot of self-reflecting to do, made me look at my addiction in ways I never had. But I had this tendency to be slightly codependent and if I was really going to try and quit, I think the only thing that would keep me from relapsing is if Boris tried to quit too, not to mention that he had also recently started using heroin and I was genuinely worried about him overdosing. I did, however, feel that in order to get him to listen to me about the possibility of getting clean again though, I had to plant it in his mind, make him think it was his idea. And the only way I could do that was by catching him at a time when he was at his "best," aka totally shitfaced. Sounds pretty contradictory, but think of it more like some branch of reverse psychology. See, Boris worried about me enough that if I started encouraging our drug habit, then he'd suggest that we both lay off the stuff for a while. He knew the effect he had on me, so he knew he had to stop in order to get me to do the same.

So, one night, as we were drinking, I brought it up.

"Hey, you know what'd go good with this? Vicodin. Or better yet, coke!"

"Whoa, whoa, Potter, slow down. I think you've hayd quite enough…" he said, grabbing ahold of the vodka bottle.

"Don't be ridiculous! We used to do this all the time, remember?"

"Yes, but we're older now. Maybe eet's time we leemit ourselves, you know? Once a week or something?"

My plan was working. Switching roles was working.

"Or better yet...What if we joined an NA group? Get clean, the both of us?"

"Potter, are you out of your gourd? No, wait! Why are you ole of the sudden siding weeth me? Two seconds ago you were begging to heet the hard stuff and now you're doing the opposite...Unless! *gasps* Oh, Potter, you dirty dog! You're trying to get me to queet, aren't you?"

"Well, I knew you'd never do it yourself. Thought I'd give you a little push. Because I am going to quit, Boris, and I'd really like it if you did it with me. I think it'd be good for you, for us."

"I gotta say, Potter, I'm inspired, but I-I-I don't know."

"Boris, I found your needles..."  
"You wot?"

"What, you didn't think I'd find out about that?"

*sighs*

"I know this isn't what you want to hear from me right now, but you really need to stop. It's gotten out of hand, Boris."

"Why stop? I'm already fucked. I'm already going to die anyway, not leeve long for that matter."

"Don't talk like that. Don't you dare talk like that about the man I love! You can't reverse the damage, but you can prevent it further."

"Bullshit! Thayse just your way of talking yourself out of et. You know you want et JUST as much as I do…"

"I do, but I'm willing to change. You're not. And I hate to break it to you, but if we're really going to be intent on making this work, then I don't think I can be with someone who still abuses. I think that would be too hard. Besides, you could contract an STD from those needles or worse— overdose and I just can't watch that happen. In fact, I won't."

"I could change…"

"Then prove it."

"Alright, I will!"

"Good!"

"Good!" he said, walking away.

"Wait, what are you doing? Where are you going?"

"I don't know, I just wanted to make a dramatic exit or something."

"*laughs* Well, how would you feel about me signing us up for NA?"

"Eh...I don't know, Potter. Groups really aren't my thing, but if you think eet will help, then I gayce I'll hayve to leesin to you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, look at how excited you got just now! I know thees means a lot to you and I just want to make you haypee at this point, you know...not fuck et ope."

"Well, it does and if we get ourselves on the right track, maybe we could secure real job positions."

"Wot wood you want to do?"

"*laughs* You'd laugh...It's stupid."

"No, tell me!"

"*sighs* I think I want to be a museum conservator. I want to repair damaged artwork, preserve it, prevent it from being damaged— I want to continue protecting paintings for eternity, if I can help it..."

"I think you'd be really great at that."

"You really think so?"

"Are you keeding? You'd be beyond qualified."

"And what about you? What would you do if you could do anything?"

"Shit, I don't know...I don't hayve a degree, so I can't exactly do anything."

"Nonsense! Some of the world's richest, most successful people made it big and they didn't have a degree either. Besides, there are plenty of low key jobs that don't require a college education if you'd rather lay low after everything that's happened."

"Yeah, I *scratches head* reelee hayven't thought much about et. I don't think they'll be able to trace et bake to either one ove us, but eef they deed, I'd find a way to throw their noses off the trail."

"We'll change our names and move to Mexico if we have to," I said.

"And eef not, eef et ole goes down een flames, we could oleways become one of those prison couples like in Orange is the New Black."

"You watch that?"

"Of course I watch it! Lesbian prison babes, duh!"

"Of course, how could I forget!"

*laughs*

"Which one would we be?" I asked.

"Chapman and Vause obviously! The sexy, impressionable blonde and the tattoo-ridden, raven-haired beauty eenvolved een a drug cartel? Has us written ole over et!"

"You're funny. Prison life with you though, that'd be kinda hot, not gonna lie...But of course, a clean criminal record is preferred."

"Most definitely...But you know maybe I should, get a degree I mean."

"What would you study?"

"*shrugs* Maybe art too. Maybe I cood become an art dealer or something, poot my energy into trading art instead of drugs," he said, followed by his breathy, croaky little laughter.

"*laughs* You mean like a replacement behavior?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"You know, it's funny, when I pictured us growing old together, I always figured we'd both turn into the grandfather from Little Miss Sunshine or something, but it feels like we're in a good place right now. I think for once I'm actually...hopeful."

"Hey, don't jinx eet! We cood steel very well tarne eento heem."

"*laughs* You're right, I won't."

And so began our journey into sobriety. It was rocky, so very rocky, definitely wasn't all rainbows and sunshines, but we never let either one of us relapse alone. We were in this together, entirely. And oddly, what helped even more was when Pippa made us her child's godparents. Made us realize that we really owe it to them and everyone around us.

A year later, once Boris and I had reached our one year anniversary, we too became parents, but not to a kid…

"Okay, now you can look," he said, removing his hands from my eyes.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Open and find out."

"*opens* A goldfinch?!"

"Damn right!"

"Boris, this is amazing! I can't believe you did this," I said, giving him a side hug. "But...how did you do this?"

"Wot do you mean?"

"It's an exotic bird!"

"I used to smuggle drugs for a leeving, you don't think I can smuggle birds too?"

"Boris…"

"Relax! It's from Tasmania, not the Amazon Rainforest."

"But how?"

"I know people!"

"Would you listen to yourself right now!"

"Would you just focus?"

"Right, sorry. But no, really, you've outdone yourself...This was so thoughtful of you."

"*smiles* Well, I know I couldn't get you your actual bird, so I thought I'd geet you the next best thing. You're so good to me even though I'm no good for you, but you make me want to be something better. You inspire me! I'm shitty, broken person, Potter, but you make me feel whole again. How you could ever love a person like me or take me bake after everything I've done ees beyond me, but I'm just glad you deed."

"*tears up* I love you and I took you back because I realized that you are more precious and important to me than that painting ever was and I may not have it now, but I came to realize that you saved me long before you ever saved it."

"*wipes tear* Gode, I love you too, Potter and speaking of The Goldfinch...wot are you going to name heem?"

"Him? Why do people always just automatically assume that a pet's a he?"

"Okay, fine, bird expert! *laughs* Wot es et then?"

"It's a girl actually."

"Oh, my bad. Wot's her name then?"

"Audrey."

"Audrey?"

"Yeah."

"Why Audrey?"

"It was my mother's—"


End file.
